THE  SNARE  OF 
CIRCUMSTANCE 


EDITH  •  E-  BUCKLEY 


i 


'^Y 


».  F.  McCrr  w.  p«  '* 
B  BO,  BROADWAY.  Lnft 


THE  SNARE  OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 


"'  Then  this  was  written  for  effect ! '  the  stranger  cried  sharply." 
FRONTISPIECE.     See  Page  4. 


THE    SNARE 
OF    CIRCUMSTANCE 

BY 
EDITH   E.   BUCKLEY 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS    BY 

ARTHUR   E.    BECHER 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 
1910 


Copyright,  1909,  1910, 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPASTY. 

All  right*  reserved 

Published,  February,  1910 

Third  Printing 


Iprtntrt* 
8.  J.  1'AEKHiLL  *  Co.,  BOSTON,  U.  8.  A. 


CONTENTS 


I.  EXTRAORDINARY  OFFER  OF  A  QUEER  OLD 

MAN 1 

II.  MURRAY  KILBOURNE  AND  THE  MAN  WHO 

WAS  HELD 10 

III.  AN  ANONYMOUS  LETTER 22 

IV.  WHO  HORSFORD  WAS 29 

V.    A  NIGHT  IN  THE  COTTAGE 39 

VI.    THE  PLACE  OF  SILENCE 47 

VII.    THE  UNSOCIABLE  MR.  ARMS 57 

VIII.    ALMOST  A  HERO 67 

IX.    THE  GIRL  IN  WHITE 78 

X.    AN  UNEXPECTED  ENCOUNTER 89 

XL  THE  SECRET  OF  THE  HORSFORDS  ....  97 

XII.  THE  MAGICIAN  OF  RED  GABLES  ....  106 

XIII.  THE  VOICE  OF  BEELZEBUB 113 

XIV.  HUTTON  GOSSIPS 121 

XV.    WHO  is  LA  COUR  ? 127 

XVI.    AN  ALLY  GAINED 135 

XVII.    INVOLVING  MILBRATH 143 

XVII  I.    DOLLY  REVEALS  A  SECRET 154 

XIX.    WARNED  AGAIN 164 

XX.  A  RESIGNATION  AND  A  REFUSAL  173 


2228981 


VI 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXI.  MILBRATH'S  ADMISSION 179 

XXII.  A  REVELATION 192 

XXIII.  BANKER  CRANE  LENDS  A  HAND      .    .  203 

XXIV.  MR.    SUMMERFIELD   ELUDES        .      .      .      .  211 

XXV.  A  DISCOVERY 221 

XXVI.  THE  SECRET  OF  THE  WING     ....  231 

XXVII.  SOME  STARTLING  DOCUMENTS  ....  240 

XXVIII.  A  THRILLING  ESCAPE 250 

XXIX.  SUMMERFIELD'S  PAST 256 

XXX.  HORSFORD  IN  DURANCE 268 

XXXI.  BY  THE  SCIENCE  OF  DEDUCTION  .    .    .  280 

XXXII.  THE  AGITATION  OF  MR.  McCLURE  .    .  285 

XXXIII.  WHAT  MAGGIE  KNEW 295 

XXXIV.  WHAT  THE  BLOTTER  REVEALED  .     .    .  307 
XXXV.  RUN  TO  EARTH 319 

XXXVI.  "  THE  WAGES  OF  SIN  " 335 

XXXVII.  MILBRATH'S  VINDICATION 341 

XXXVIII.  THE  STORY  TOLD  .  347 


ILLUSTKATIONS 


"  '  Then  this  was  written  for  effect ! '  the  stranger 

cried  sharply  " Frontispiece 

"I  had  dismounted  and  held  before  her  the 

locket" Page  93 

"  '  And  now  for  this  last  paper,'  I  said,  opening 

a  folded  sheet " "248 

"  Mr.  La  Cour  went  over  the  cliff  in  the  night "     "    334 


THE  SNARE  OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

CHAPTER   I 

i 

EXTEAOBDINAEY  OFFEE  OF  A  QUEEE  OLD  MAN 

"  TJ1  VERY  man  is  the  architect  of  his  own  f or- 
-*-^  tunes  "  was  so  carefully  impressed  upon  my 
youthful  mind,  that  manhood  was  reached  before 
I  came  to  understand  that  a  literal  acceptance  of 
that  saying  is  a  mistake.  It  was  my  connection  with 
the  Somhers  mystery  that  completed  my  conversion 
to  a  belief  in  cause  and  effect,  and  made  me  a  re- 
specter of  the  potency  of  circumstance. 

I  had  known  Mr.  Peter  Somhers  from  my  child- 
hood. It  was  natural,  therefore,  when  the  old 
gentleman  was  mysteriously  murdered,  that  I  should 
seek  the  assignment  to  visit  the  scene  of  the  crime 
and  do  the  "  special "  for  the  Sphere,  that  great 
New  York  daily  on  which  I  had  won  my  spurs  as  a 
"  star  "  reporter.  But  my  chief  had  other  plans 
for  me,  and  before  the  man  who  was  detailed  to  that 
case  reached  the  New  England  village  where  the 
murder  was  done,  I  was  well  out  past  Sandy  Hook 
on  my  way  to  Paris  on  a  commission  to  which  I  had 
long  looked  forward. 

My  interest  in  the  Somhers  case  was  not,  however, 
weakened  by  my  sudden  good  fortune,  and  I  spent 

1 


2       THE    SNAKE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

the  greater  part  of  the  first  day  out  in  reading  ac- 
counts of  the  crime  as  given  by  the  various  papers 
that  I  had  taken  aboard,  and  in  an  endeavor  to 
put  into  logical  form  the  contradictory  evidence 
presented. 

From  the  first,  the  responsibility  for  the  deed 
pointed  to  Harrison  Milbrath,  a  young  nephew  of 
the  victim,  whose  home  had  been  with  Mr.  Somhers, 
and  I  was  not  surprised,  upon  landing,  to  learn  that 
he  had  been  arrested,  charged  with  the  crime.  To 
my  mind  the  case  against  him  weakened  steadily 
as  details  came  to  hand,  and  I  was  not  only  aston- 
ished, but  mystified,  that  his  trial  could  end  as  it 
did  in  a  verdict  of  "  guilty."  The  case  was  ap- 
pealed, and  although,  as  before,  the  sentiment  of  the 
press  was  against  the  lad,  he  was  acquitted  by  the 
second  jury. 

I  had  never  known  Milbrath,  and  I  felt  no  more 
interest  in  him  than  I  should  have  felt  for  any  per- 
son in  his  position,  but  I  must  say  that  his  case 
touched  a  chord  of  sympathy,  or  something  akin  to 
it,  in  my  breast.  I  was  glad  of  his  acquittal,  for  I 
believed  in  his  innocence. 

I  returned  to  America  in  time  to  take  in  the  last 
day  of  the  second  trial,  and  I  went  back  to  town 
with  a  far  deeper  feeling  for  the  young  man  than 
I  had  any  desire  to  possess.  His  haunted  eyes  and 
sensitive  lips  touched  even  my  sensibilities,  hardened 
as  they  were,  through  years  of  newspaper  training. 

To  my  report  of  the  conclusion  of  the  trial,  there- 
fore, I  appended  a  brief  analysis  of  the  case,  which 
tended  logically  to  Milbrath's  advantage,  and  added 


OFFER    OF   A   QUEER   OLD   MAN      3 

an  urgent  plea  for  a  more  friendly  attitude  toward 
him  who,  though  acquitted  by  twelve  men,  was  not 
fully  exonerated  until  public  sentiment  extended  the 
right  hand  of  good-fellowship.  This  sympathetic 
monograph  was  freely  blue-penciled  by  my  chief, 
but  enough  of  it  remained  to  attract  the  attention 
of  at  least  one  person  and,  as  a  consequence,  to  alter 
the  trend  of  my  whole  career. 

One  day,  about  six  months  later,  as  I  sat  at  my 
table  running  out  some  copy,  the  door  to  our  chief's 
sanctum  opened  and  there  emerged  with  him  an 
odd-looking,  bent-shouldered  elderly  man.  Follow- 
ing the  chief's  indication  he  started  toward  ine 
with  quick,  nervous  strides,  but  as  I  turned  he 
stopped  short,  wavered  an  instant  as  if  he  would 
turn  back,  then  continued  to  come  forward,  but 
slowly,  with  dragging  steps. 

"  Mr.  Bliss  ? "  he  asked,  and  his  eyes  searched 
mine  until  I  could  believe  that  he  read  my  thoughts. 

I  answered  affirmatively,  and  impressed  by  his 
sudden  feebleness  offered  him  my  chair ;  but  he  de- 
clined it  with  an  irritated  motion  of  his  whole  body. 

"  Your  editor  tells  me  that  you  wrote  this,"  and 
he  handed  me  a  copy  of  my  analysis  of  the  Somhers 
mystery,  "  and  I  want  you  to  undertake  an  inves- 
tigation for  me  —  reopen  the  case,  as  it  were, 
privately." 

"  With  a  view  to  detecting  the  murderer  of  Mr. 
Somhers  ? " 

"  To  be  sure." 

"  I  fear  that  such  an  effort  on  my  part  would  be 
wasted  time.  Two  years  is  a  good  while,  and  every 


4      THE    SNARE    OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

chance  of  getting  at  the  right  clue  may  be  lost  by 
now." 

"  Then  this  was  written  for  effect !  "  the  stranger 
cried  sharply,  putting  his  forefinger  on  that  part  of 
the  article  —  which  I  still  held  —  in  which  I  devel- 
oped by  deduction  the  theory  that  the  crime  had 
been  committed  by  an  elderly  or  infirm  man,  instead 
of  by  one  young  and  athletic  like  Harrison  Milbrath. 

"  No,"  I  answered.  "  I  can  stand  by  that ;  but 
my  theory  ends  there,  and  as  now  I  can  have  none 
of  the  advantages  that  come  with  being  upon  the 
spot  immediately  after  a  crime  to  help  me  in  my 
work,  I  think  I  should  be  unwise  to  undertake  such 
an  investigation.  Besides,  I  believe  that  Mr.  Mil- 
brath already  has  had  some  of  the  best  detective  skill 
in  the  country  at  work  upon  the  case." 

"  Do  you  know  that  ?  " 

"  I  had  it  on  excellent  authority." 

The  old  man  appeared  to  meditate,  and  as  I 
looked  at  him  I  could  not  doubt  that  the  alternate 
clutch  and  release  of  his  fingers  on  the  side  of  my 
desk,  and  the  swift  twitching  of  the  muscles  of  his 
face  indicated  a  fierce  mental  conflict  of  some  kind 
—  an  effort  to  control  anger,  it  seemed  to  me. 

"  Bah !  "  he  roared  presently,  his  voice  vibrant, 
"  And  what  will  they  do  ?  Take  his  money,  en- 
courage him  with  false  clues,  and,  finally,  declare 
the  puzzle  insoluble,  a  closed  book,  as  is  every  case 
where  the  story  has  once  been  told.  Bah  1  " 

"  Then  how  can  you  hope  that  I  could  succeed  ? 
I,  who  have  only  a  journalist's  experience  to  meas- 
ure against  the  training  of " 


OFFER   OF  A   QUEER   OLD   MAN      5 

"  There  you  are ! "  the  old  man  interrupted, 
stamping  his  foot.  "  There  you  are !  Like  all  young 
fools.  Never  to  know  your  best  gifts  and  so  to  slight 
them.  Talk  about  your  experience  measured  against 
that  of  a  professional  detective !  Bah !  How  many 
detectives  concern  themselves  about  the  hair-line  of 
accuracy  ?  How  many  professional  detectives  ana- 
lyze ?  How  many  are  capable  of  deducing  a  pro- 
position without  forestalling  a  conclusion,  as  you 
have  done  in  that  clipping?  Now  can  you  under- 
stand why  it  is  you  that  I  want  for  the  work  ? " 

I  thought  that  he  had  made  the  matter  fairly 
clear.  I  did  not,  however,  feel  disposed  to  consider 
his  offer. 

"  I  am  very  well  satisfied  with  my  present  posi- 
tion," I  ventured. 

"  Bah !  And  what  will  it  lead  you  to  ?  An  edi- 
tor's chair  some  time,  perhaps,  and  a  life's  work  for 
an  amount  of  money  that  I  will  give  you  in  a  year 
—  or  in  a  month,  if  you  succeed.  Now  will  you 
listen  ? " 

I  glanced  at  my  watch. 

"  I  am  pressed  for  time  at  this  hour,"  I  said. 
"  Is  it  agreeable  to  you  to  appoint  a  later  time  when 
we  can  discuss  the  matter  more  at  our  leisure  ?  " 

"  At  your  leisure,  you  mean,"  he  cried  rudely. 
"  No ;  it  must  be  now  or  not  at  all.  You  pressed 
for  time !  A  life  of  time  is  before  you,  while  I  — 
Bah !  I,  too,  am  pressed  for  time.  I  have  come  a 
long  way  to  see  you  and  I  must  be  getting  back." 

That  I  was  dealing  with  a  crank  —  or  worse  — 
I  had  small  doubt.  But,  as  he  intimated,  it  might 


6      THE    SNAKE    OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

be  wiser  to  hear  him  out.  I  therefore  offered  him 
a  chair,  which  the  old  man  this  time  made  no  ob- 
jection to  taking,  and  prepared  to  listen  to  him. 

He  was  affable  and  concise  when  it  became  a 
matter  of  exact  business.  His  name,  he  said,  was 
Philander  Summerfield,  and  he  was  a  cosmopolite 
—  now  in  Europe,  in  the  Orient,  or  in  America, 
as  the  fancy  seized  him.  At  that  time  his  head- 
quarters were  in  Boston.  All  he  demanded  of  me 
was  that  I  give  up  all  other  work  and  devote  my 
best  energies  to  a  study  of  the  Somhers  mystery. 
He  would  restrict  me  in  no  course  that  I  saw 
fit  to  pursue,  and  any  reasonable  amount  of  money 
necessary  to  carry  on  the  work  should  be  promptly 
forthcoming.  He  required,  however,  a  semi-weekly 
report  of  my  progress,  and  an  itemized  account  of 
my  expenditures  in  the  interest  of  the  case,  "  as  a 
matter  of  curiosity,"  he  added.  In  consideration 
of  these  offices  on  my  part  he  would  pay  me  a  salary. 

"  What  are  you  making  now  ? "  he  asked 
abruptly. 

I  told  him. 

"  I  will  increase  it  by  ten  a  week,  and  when  you 
succeed  in  bringing  the  criminal  to  justice  twenty 
thousand  dollars  shall  be  yours." 

"  Twenty  thousand ! "  I  gasped,  for  half  that 
amount  would  have  been  an  inducement. 

"  Twenty  thousand !  "  Mr.  Summerfield  repeated 
with  evident  satisfaction.  "  And  there  is  one  point 
that  I  would  suggest.  I  should  be  glad  to  have  you 
make  the  acquaintance  of  young  Milbrath  and  be 
actuated  by  as  much  friendliness  and  sympathy 


OFFER   OF  A   QUEER   OLD   MAN      7 

for  hirn  as,  consistently,  you  can  feel.  Do  not 
fancy  that  I  have  any  personal  interest  in  the 
young  man,"  he  continued,  in  an  altered  tone,  as 
if  answering  the  question  that  sprang  to  my  lips 
and  was  suppressed.  "  We  have  no  acquaintance, 
nor  does  he  know  that  I  exist.  Indeed,  I  will  re- 
tract that  request.  Pay  no  attention  to  Milbrath 
so  far  as  I  am  concerned.  What  do  I  care  about 
him  ? "  and  Mr.  Summerfield's  eyes  gleamed  an- 
grily. "  Did  he  not  get  the  deserts  of  a  headstrong, 
willful  lad  ?  'No ;  he  may  yet  hang  for  all  me !  " 

"  Then  may  I  ask  why  you  are  trying  to  clear 
his  name  ? " 

"  Clear  his  name  ?  T  clear  his  name  ?  Oh,  ho ! 
young  man.  You  are  not  so  sharp-witted  as  I 
judged  you  to  be.  /  help  Harrison  Milbrath? 
You  mistake  my  purpose.  I  seek  the  truth  —  for 
truth's  sake.  Why  not?  Or  better,  since  I  ob- 
serve that  you  doubt  that  statement,  to  satisfy  a 
curiosity  —  to  settle  a  theory  of  my  own,  perhaps." 
He  paused  and  eyed  me  shrewdly. 

"  I  am  —  peculiar,"  he  continued  presently, 
with  a  flicker  of  a  smile ;  "  t  eccentric,'  some  ex- 
press it.  I  have  sufficient  means  to  enjoy  that  privi- 
lege. I  am  interested  in  this  case  solely  from  mo- 
tives that  could  not,  probably,  actuate  you,  and  I 
am  prevented  from  engaging  in  a  personal  investi- 
gation of  it  for  good  and  sufficient  reasons.  Now 
what  do  you  think  of  my  offer?" 

"  It  is  a  most  liberal  one,"  I  said,  and  paused 
as  the  strangeness  of  the  situation  flashed  over  me. 
What  did  I  know  of  this  man  ?  Only  the  little  that 


8      THE    SNARE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

he  had  chosen  to  tell  me.  And  what  proof  had  I  of 
the  truth  of  that? 

"  Well,  well,"  Mr.  Summerfield  cried  impa- 
tiently, and  as  if  he  read  my  thoughts.  "  Of  course 
you  do  not  know  me.  How  do  you  know  that  I  am 
not  a  crank,  or  worse,  —  a  madman  —  the  mur- 
derer himself?  Ah,  ha!  That  is  not  a  bad  joke, 
is  it?  To  put  you  on  my  own  track,  as  it  were," 
and  he  doubled  over  with  mirthless  laughter,  and 
then  pulled  himself  to  soberness  as  suddenly  as 
he  had  interrupted  himself.  "  Yes ;  I  assure  you 
that  I  'am  —  ah  —  '  eccentric/  But,  my  young 
man,  you  need  not  hesitate  on  that  account.  I  am 
prepared  to  deposit  in  trust  twenty  thousand  dollars 
to  be  made  payable  to  you  as  soon  as  you  have  met 
the  conditions  of  this  simple  contract.  As  for 
references  as  to  my  reliability,  call  up  the  First 
National  Bank  of  Boston  and  ask  whether  Philan- 
der Summerfield  is  good  for  twenty  thousand  dol- 
lars. That  is  as  much  as  you  need  to  know  about 
me." 

I  acted  upon  Mr.  Sumanerfield's  suggestion.  The 
result  was  satisfactory  to  me,  yet  I  could  not  bring 
myself  to  sign  the  contract  which  Mr.  Summerfield 
produced,  though  it  set  forth  nothing  that  he  had 
not  mentioned. 

With  a  quickness  that  seemed  to  be  character- 
istic, Mr.  Summerfield  read  my  indecision. 

"  Well,"  he  said  irritably,  "  you  reach  conclu- 
sions slowly." 

"  I  should  like  a  day  in  which  to  consider  your 
extraordinary  offer,"  I  answered. 


OFFER   OF  A   QUEER  OLD   MAN      9 

"  A  day  ?  Not  an  hour !  Have  I  not  told  you 
that  I  am  in  haste  to  be  off?  Now  is  your  oppor- 
tunity to  make  the  foundation  of  a  fortune  if  you 
are  clever,  but  your  decision  must  be  at  once  — 
at  once,  sir !  " 

To  the  winds  went  my  native  caution.  When 
again  would  an  opportunity  to  make  twenty  thou- 
sand dollars  in  congenial  work  be  flung  at  my  feet  ? 
And  if  I  failed?  Well,  the  Sphere  would  still,  no 
doubt,  be  issued. 

Half  an  hour  later  Mr.  Philander  Summerfield 
and  I  parted  company  —  forever,  as  it  proved.  I 
carried  in  my  pocket  a  concisely  worded  contract 
which  bound  me  to  his  interests,  therein  specified, 
for  one  year,  if  that  length  of  time  were  required  to 
work  out  my  case,  and  my  thoughts  were  full  of 
the  peculiarities  of  my  new  acquaintance  and  of 
the  curious  change  that  circumstance  had  made  in 
my  life;  for,  up  to  an  hour  earlier,  criminal  in- 
vestigation was  the  last  profession  to  which  my 
fancy  would  have  turned. 


CHAPTER   II 

MURBAY  KILBOURNE  AND  THE  MAN  WHO   WAS  HELD 

\  FEW  hours  later  I  severed  my  connection  with 
-*--*-  the  Sphere,  and  seven  o'clock  that  evening 
found  me  at  the  Reform  Club  dining  vis-a-vis  with 
Murray  Kilbourne,  whom  I  had  wired  to  meet  me 
there  and  help  me  celebrate. 

What  I  had  to  tell  him  of  my  morning  visitor 
and  his  extraordinary  offer  turned  him  green,  figu- 
ratively speaking,  for  while  a  successful  journalist 
and  an  author  of  whom  the  world  was  beginning 
to  take  cognizance,  Murray  Kilbourne  was  by  pred- 
ilection a  sleuth  of  no  mean  ability.  Indeed, 
criminal  detection  had  been  the  profession  to 
which  he  turned  naturally  upon  leaving  college. 
But  he  had  abandoned  the  field  after  a  year  of 
work,  to  accept  a  small  fortune  left  to  him  by  an 
uncle  on  condition  that  he  devote  his  entire  energies 
to  the  cultivation  of  his  literary  talent  —  a  wise 
stipulation,  it  seemed  to  me;  for,  in  spite  of  Kil- 
bourne's  ability,  his  delicate  health  and  periods  of 
constitutional  lassitude,  when  he  abhorred  concen- 
trated thought  or  action,  would,  in  all  likelihood, 
have  kept  him  always  in  the  ranks  of  the  little 
known. 

"  By  Jove !  Bliss,"  he  cried  enviously.  "  You  're 
a  lucky  dog.  When  do  you  enter  upon  your  new 
career  ? " 


THE   MAN   WHO   WAS   HELD        11 

"  I  'm  in  it  now,"  I  laughed.  "  Dining  like  a 
Tammany  chief  will  henceforth  be  one  of  the  fea- 
tures of  my  increased  salary.  Stick  to  me,  Murray, 
and  you  '11  not  starve.  What  do  you  think  of  the 
old  fellow?" 

"  Summerfield  ?  Oh,  a  monomaniac,  no  doubt ; 
or,  perhaps,  a  philanthropist  who  saw  in  you  a  fit 
subject  for  a  lift" 

"  I  like  that !  Have  a  care  or  you  '11  not  be 
asked  to  my  country  place  this  summer." 

"  So !    Where  may  I  go  if  I  'm  proper  ?  " 

"  To  Overlook,  in  Winton,  a  New  England  vil- 
lage just  over  the  line  from  Connecticut  where 
the  old  man  Somhers  lived  and  met  his  end  —  that 
is  if  I  'm  successful  in  getting  the  place  for  a  time. 
I  saw  it  advertised  for  sale  or  for  rent  the  other 
day.  Know  the  place  ?  "  for  Kilbourne  was  frown- 
ing reflectively. 

"  The  name  seems  to  be  associated  in  my  mind, 
though  I  can't  tell  how.  It  may  come  to  me  pres- 
ently. So  you  plan  to  go  there  ?  " 

"  Probably  I  shall  want  the  place  for  only  a 
short  time,  while  I  put  myself  into  humor  with 
the  conditions  that  prevailed  there  at  the  time  of 
the  tragedy  —  a  month,  perhaps,  if  I  can  get  it. 
Harrison  Milbrath  can  doubtless  settle  that  point 
for  me." 

"  The  nephew  who  was  charged  with  the  crime  ? 
I  'm  not  familiar  with  that  case.  What  were  the 
leading  features  of  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  old  man  was  found  dead  in  his  library, 
lying  on  a  couch,  an  ugly  bruise  above  his  left 


12    THE    SNARE   OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

temple,  but  no  other  marks  of  violence  in  evidence. 
The  physicians  and  police  decided  that  the  wound 
was  caused  by  a  blow  from  a  blunt  instrument, 
which,  by  the  way,  was  never  found.  It  was  evi- 
dent enough  that  he  had  not  been  killed  while  on 
the  couch,  for  there  was  not  a  drop  of  blood  on 
anything  except  upon  the  body  and  clothes.  A 
curious  feature  of  the  affair,  too,  was  that  a  piece 
of  oilcloth  that  no  one  seemed  able  to  identify  had 
been  put  under  the  old  man's  head,  as  if  to  save 
the  couch." 

"  A  considerate  criminal,"  commented  Kilbourne 
with  a  smile. 

"  But  another  proof  that  the  body  was  taken 
to  the  couch  some  little  time  after  the  murder  was 
the  fact  that  there  was  not  a  stain  upon  the  oil- 
cloth. The  blood  of  the  victim  had  had  time  to 
congeal,  you  see." 

Kilbourne  nodded. 

"  Well,  the  nephew,  Harrison  Milbrath,  who 
had  lived  with  Mr.  Somhers  for  twelve  years  or 
more,  seemed  to  be  the  only  person  on  earth  with 
whom  Mr.  Somhers  ever  had  trouble,  or  who  would 
profit  largely  by  his  death,  so,  naturally,  suspicion 
pointed  to  him.  Moreover,  it  was  proved  that  on 
the  very  day  of  the  tragedy  uncle  and  nephew  had 
indulged  in  a  fierce  disagreement,  after  which  Mil- 
brath left  the  house  with  an  expression  anything 
but  pleasant  on  his  face.  No  one  in  the  household, 
which  consisted  of  only  a  maid  and  a  cook,  besides 
the  two  men  (for  Mr.  Somhers  was  a  widower), 
saw  the  young  man  again  until  the  day  after  the 


THE   MAN    WHO    WAS   HELD         13 

tragedy,  when  he  returned  from  Boston,  where  he 
swore  that  he  had  been  for  eighteen  hours.  But 
there  were  witnesses  who  took  their  oath  that  he  was 
on  the  road  between  Winton  and  Overlook,  a  mile 
out  of  the  village,  walking  toward  home,  within 
the  time  the  physicians  testified  that  Mr.  Somhers 
must  have  died.  Unfortunately  he  did  n't  prove  his 
alibi,  and  he  was  found  guilty.  At  a  second  trial, 
however,  an  eminently  respectable  and  well-known 
man  —  seems  to  me  it  was  a  clergyman  —  testified 
that  Milbrath  was  with  him  in  Boston  at  the  time 
of  the  tragedy.  That  seemed  to  settle  the  matter  in 
the  minds  of  the  jury,  for  they  returned  a  verdict 
of  acquittal." 

"  Hum !  "  meditated  Kilbourne,  toying  with  his 
oyster  fork.  "  Did  no  one  else  come  under  the 
shadow  of  suspicion  ?  " 

"  Never  a  soul,  so  far  as  I  know.  The  servants 
swore  that  no  one  called  at  the  house  that  day,  not 
even  a  tradesman.  Besides,  Mr.  Somhers  was  more 
or  less  of  a  recluse  and  had  no  enemies." 

"Who  found  the  body?" 

"  One  of  the  servants  who  went  to  announce  din- 
ner. I  believe  it  was  the  housemaid." 

"  An  interesting  case,"  commented  Kilbourne. 
"  Say,  but  you  are  lucky,  Bliss !  "  Then,  after  a 
moment's  pause :  "  Did  young  Milbrath  profit 
largely  by  his  uncle's  death  ?  " 

"  To  the  tune  of  something  like  a  million,  I 
believe." 

"  A  pretty  penny  for  a  rainy  day,  hey  ?  Where 
is  he  now  ?  " 


14    THE    SNARE    OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

"  On  his  way  here,  I  hope.  I  traced  him  through 
his  attorneys  and  sent  a  messenger  to  the  Oriental, 
at  Manhattan  Beach,  where  he  is  stopping,  with  a 
hint  of  my  purpose  and  an  invitation  to  join  us 
here  at  dinner." 

"  I  assume  that  he  declined  ?  " 

"  He  answered  that  he  would  meet  us  later  —  in 
the  parlors  at  nine  o'clock.  He  may  be  able  to 
lend  me  a  hand  somehow.  I  fancy  that  I  '11  need 
all  the  help  that  comes  my  way,  for  in  two  years 
every  clue  not  obvious  may  be  lost." 

"  Humph !  "  sniffed  Kilbourne  contemptuously. 
"  A  fine,  faint-hearted  lad  you  are !  Two  years, 
indeed !  If  ever  there  was  a  true  clue  face  upward, 
it  is  there  yet." 

"  Well,  if  two  years  does  n't  seem  long  to  you, 
it  does  to  me,"  I  answered,  with  an  assumption  of 
his  own  superiority.  "  The  die  is  cast,  however. 
I  '11  make  that  twenty  thousand  dollars  if  any  skill 
of  mine  avails." 

Kilbourne  shrugged  his  wide,  gaunt  shoulders. 

"  Let  me  see  your  contract,"  he  said. 

I  produced  it.  He  studied  it  for  a  minute,  and 
handed  it  back. 

"  This  Summerfield  came  prepared  to  secure  your 
services,  evidently,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that 
he  did  not  know  your  name." 

"  You  infer  that  from  the  fact  that  my  name 
is  penned  in  the  space  left  for  a  name  ? " 

Kilbourne  nodded. 

"  Well,  he  did  not  know,  either,  what  salary  he  'd 
have  to  pay,  as  doubtless  you  've  likewise  observed. 


THE   MAN   WHO   WAS  HELD        15 

No  matter  what  my  personality,  position,  or  ability, 
I  was  to  be  pressed  into  his  service.  A  very  confident 
old  man,  it  seems  to  me  —  and  all  because  I 
chanced  to  write  a  few  lines  that  pleased  him !  " 

"  So  it  appears.  But  it  would  interest  me  to 
know  his  reason  for  assuming  a  handwriting,  this 
Mr.  Philander  Summerfield,  the  cosmopolite." 

"  His  handwriting  assumed !  What  evidence 
have  you  ? "  and  I  hastily  unfolded  the  sheet  to 
see  for  myself. 

Kilbourne  put  up  his  hand  to  hide  a  yawn. 

"  Elmer,"  he  said,  with  languid  amusement, 
"  You  are  so  clever !  By  Jove !  You  fairly  scintil- 
late! Even  you,  if  you  look  carefully,  will  be 
able  to  detect  a  difference  between  the  signature 
and  the  parts  so  neatly  and  so  painstakingly  filled 
in  by  hand.  Yet  they  were  undoubtedly  done  by 
the  same  person." 

"  Unquestionably,  for  I  saw  both  written ;  and 
though  the  difference,  except  in  the  size  of  the  let- 
ters, did  not  impress  me  at  the  time,  I  see  now  that 
even  their  formation  differs  somewhat." 

"  Precisely.  It  takes  considerable  rubbing  to 
polish  your  power  of  observation,  as  I  learned  long 
ago,  but  it  will  polish." 

"  Thank  you !  It  is  comforting  to  know  that  I 
am  not  hopeless.  But  Kilbourne,  I  recognize  my 
limitations,  and  I  've  got  to  have  you  at  the  helm. 
It  was,  indeed,  the  remembrance  of  you  that  turned 
the  balance  of  decision  when  the  old  man  pressed 
me." 

Kilbourne's  pale,  thin  face  became  tinged  with 


16    THE    SNAKE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

color  about  the  high  cheek  bones,  and  he  lifted  his 
deep-set  dark  eyes  in  one  penetrating  glance.  I 
knew  his  susceptibility  to  flattery  in  the  matter  of 
his  detective  skill,  but  I  was  not  making  use  of  my 
knowledge,  as  he  saw. 

"  There !  There !  "  he  demurred,  but  with  a 
pleased  smile.  "  By  the  way,  it  has  just  come  to 
me  about  Winton.  Mr.  McClure  lives  there,  if  I  'm 
not  mistaken.  No;  you  don't  know  Mr.  McClure, 
probably,  unless  by  name.  He  's  a  good  deal  of  a 
scientist  in  his  line  —  an  authority,  I  believe,  on 
the  birds  of  New  England,  which  he  writes  about. 
I  met  him  on  the  steamer  coming  home  four  years 
ago,  and  I  was  never  so  fascinated  by  a  man  of  his 
years  before,  or  since.  I  '11  give  you  a  card  to  him. 
Whether  he  remembers  me  or  not,  I  'm  sure  he  '11 
make  you  glad  that  you  met  him.  Ah!  What  is 
this?" 

It  was  Harrison  Milbrath's  card ;  and  as  we  did 
not  linger  over  the  final  touches  of  our  dinner  we 
were  soon  standing  before  the  young  man. 

He  was  a  huge  fellow,  quite  as  broad  and  taller, 
even,  than  Kilbourne,  who  stood  six  feet  one  in  his 
stockings.  But  Kilbourne  was  gaunt  to  attenua- 
tion, angular  and  aquiline,  and  Milbrath  possessed 
a  sleek  fullness,  athletic,  however,  rather  than 
voluptuous. 

He  acknowledged  my  greeting  and  the  introduc- 
tion to  Kilbourne  with  grave  dignity,  odd  in  contrast 
to  the  boyish  face,  which  a  soft  beard  did  not  ma- 
ture, and  his  alert  movements.  There  was  the 
same  reflection  of  pain  in  his  candid  eyes,  and  of 


THE   MAN   WHO   WAS   HELD        17 

contained   sensitiveness  about  his  well-shaped  lips 
that  had  impressed  me  when  first  I  saw  him. 

"  Your  note,  Mr.  Bliss,"  he  said  when,  after  a 
few  pleasantries,  we  found  ourselves,  with  lighted 
cigars,  upon  a  divan,  "  your  note  referred  to  a 
stranger  who  has  engaged  you  to  investigate  the 
mystery  of  my  uncle's  death.  May  I  know  the 
name  of  this  friend  ?  " 

"  Philander  Summerfield." 

Milbrath  repeated  the  name  reflectively  and 
shook  his  head. 

"  I  never  heard  of  him." 

"  He  said  that  he  was  unknown  to  you." 

"Elderly?" 

"  Quite  so ;   past  sixty,  I  should  say." 

"  A  friend  of  my  uncle's,  no  doubt." 

"  On  the  contrary  he  took  pains  to  explain  that 
his  motive  in  having  the  case  investigated  was  actu- 
ated by  nothing  more  lofty  than  curiosity.  He  ap- 
pears to  have  formed  some  theory  which  he  wishes 
proved,  or  disproved." 

"  Um !    Do  you  think  that  he  suspects  some  one  ?  " 

"  That  idea  came  to  me,  but  I  rejected  it  when  he 
offered  me  twenty  thousand  dollars  to  solve  the 
mystery  and  produce  my  man." 

"  Twenty  thousand  dollars !  He  pays  well  for 
gratified  curiosity.  It  would  be  interesting  to  know 
Mr.  Summerfield,  if  he  is  as  original  in  everything." 

"  He  at  least  possesses  the  faculty  of  keeping  one 
guessing." 

Milbrath  puffed  at  his  cigar  for  a  moment  in 
thoughtful  silence. 

2 


18    THE    SNARE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

I  glanced  at  Kilbourne,  who  faced  us  in  a  high- 
back  chair.  Between  his  almost  closed  eyelids  he 
was  regarding  Milbrath  with  steady  scrutiny,  and  I 
knew  that  when  he  turned  away  he  would  have 
formed  an  opinion  of  the  young  man  that  in  all 
probability  he  would  never  change.  But  his  silence 
made  me  apprehensive,  for  I  knew  from  experience 
that  silence  in  Kilbourne  foreboded  antipathy  or 
antagonism.  I  had  faith  that  his  analysis  of  Mil- 
brath's  character  would  be  unprejudiced  and  prac- 
tically unerring;  but  I  knew,  also,  that  he  was 
given  to  personal  dislikes  founded,  as  he  was  frank 
enough  to  admit,  on  nothing  more  reliable  than  in- 
tuition, which  would  utterly  destroy  his  interest 
in  a  person  or  a  case;  and  I  felt  that  I  should 
be  lost  without  Kilbourne's  counsel  in  this  new 
work. 

I  explained  to  Milbrath  that  I  had  accepted  Mr. 
Summerfield's  proposition  because  he  had  insisted 
on  an  immediate  decision,  "  but,"  I  added,  "  I  have 
no  intention  of  doing  anything  without  your  per- 
mission; that  was  one  of  the  stipulations  of  my 
agreement  with  him." 

Milbrath  shot  at  me  a  glance  of  surprise  and 
question. 

"  My  permission  ? "  he  repeated,  and  smiled. 
"  It  had  not  occurred  to  me  that  my  permission  was 
necessary.  You  are  good  to  put  it  that  way,  and 
of  course  you  have  it.  Go  ahead  in  your  own  way 
and  count  upon  me  for  any  assistance  I  can  give. 
Shall  you  wish  to  visit  Overlook  ?  " 

"  That  will  doubtless  be  the  best  beginning.     I 


THE   MAN   WHO   WAS   HELD        19 

should  like  to  go  there,  however,  not  as  a  detective, 
but  as  a  tenant,  if  I  can  arrange  terms." 

"  That  point  need  not  trouble  you.  You  are  wel- 
come to  use  the  place  indefinitely.  The  property 
is  in  the  hands  of  an  agent,  but  I  will  see  that  he 
understands  the  situation.  When  will  you  care  to 
go  out  ? " 

"  To-morrow  if  I  may." 

"  So  soon  ?  Then  I  will  give  you  a  note  to  Mr. 
Arms,  the  farmer,  who  is  also  caretaker  of  the 
grounds.  The  house,  you  understand,  is  closed  and 
deserted.  Perhaps  you  would  be  more  comfortable 
at  the  farm.  Mrs.  Arms  has  taken  a  summer 
boarder  before  now.  In  that  way  you  would  have 
the  run  of  the  place  without  the  inconvenience  of 
keeping  it  up." 

"  That  feature  has  no  terror  for  me.  Mine  will 
be  a  bachelor  establishment,  and  I  know  a  French- 
man who  will  jump  at  the  chance  of  going  out  with 
me  as  general  factotum.  Besides,  I  think  that  I 
should  be  freer  at  the  villa." 

"  That  is  possible.  The  Wintonites  are  a  simple- 
hearted,  hospitable  folk,  distinctively  rural  in  type, 
and  ready  enough  to  take  a  stranger  into  their  circle, 
unless,  indeed,"  a  connection  with  '  The  Place  of 
Silence,'  as  I  hear  they  have  come  to  call  Overlook, 
stands  in  the  way.  Excuse  me  for  a  moment  and  I 
will  write  an  introduction  to  Mr.  Arms." 

He  turned  to  a  writing  table  at  his  elbow  and 
penned  a  few  lines,  which  he  handed  to  me. 

"  This  note  should  provide  every  convenience  for 
you  and  your  work  at  Overlook,"  he  said.  "  But 


20    THE    SNAKE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

if  anything  is  lacking,  please  let  me  know  what  it 
is.  I  have  engaged  passage  on  the  Umbria  which 
sails  a  week  from  to-morrow,  but  if  I  can  help  you 
by  remaining  I  will  cancel  my  booking." 

"  That  seems  hardly  necessary,  thank  you.  Still 
if  you  can  arrange  to  be  with  me  while  you  are  here 
it  would  be  very  helpful." 

An  expression  of  acute  pain  flashed  across  Mil- 
brath's  mobile  face,  and  he  shook  his  head. 

"  Anywhere  but  in  Winton,"  he  said  sadly. 
"  The  townspeople  still  hold  me  guilty  —  they  look 
askance  at  me,  at  least." 

"  But  you  were  acquitted." 

"  True  —  afterward.  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Bliss,  a 
man  who  has  done  a  crime  may  be  satisfied  to  get 
free  with  his  life,  but  one  without  guilt  who  has 
been  held  and  convicted,  then  freed,  will  carry  a 
stain  on  his  name  and  a  blight  on  his  happiness 
just  so  long  as  the  real  criminal  remains  undetected. 
Good  God!  You  cannot  understand  it.  No  one 
who  has  not  been  through  it  can  know  what  it  means 
to  have  a  free  conscience,  and  yet  realize  that  wher- 
ever his  name  precedes  him  there  are  some  to  look 
at  him  with  distrustful  eyes,  believing  that  the  court 
erred  in  giving  him  his  freedom." 

Milbrath  spoke  rapidly  and  with  dramatic  in- 
tensity. I  stretched  out  my  hand  and  touched  his 
arm. 

"  We  are  going  to  find  the  real  criminal  now," 
I  said  convincingly.  "  But,  Mr.  Milbrath,  there  is 
need  for  absolute  candor  between  us.  Without 
your  confidence  I  can  work  only  in  a  half  light,  and 


THE    MAN   WHO    WAS   HELD        21 

you  know  what  that  means.  May  I  ask  some 
questions  ? " 

"Certainly." 

"  Have  you  any  theory  as  to  who  murdered  Mr. 
Somhers  ? " 

Milbrath's  eyes  fell  and  he  pulled  out  his  watch 
and  glanced  at  it  nervously. 

"  No/'  he  said,  after  a  second. 

I  heard  Kilbourne  catch  his  breath  sharply,  but 
his  face  remained  impassive. 

"  And  there  is  no  one  whom  you  suspect  of  know- 
ing who  did  it  ?  " 

Again  Milbrath  took  out  his  watch  and  looked  at 
it  with  unseeing  eyes  before  he  spoke. 

"  N-o,"  he  said  again. 


CHAPTER   III 

AN    ANONYMOUS    LETTER 

rflHERE  was  a  pause  when  the  only  sound  was 
-*-  the  voices  of  a  trio  of  men  across  the  room. 
Then  Milbrath  said  slowly: 

"  You  argued  once,  I  remember,  that  the  man  who 
did  that  deed  was  older  or  less  vigorous  than  I.  Do 
you  mind  telling  me  how  you  reached  that 
conclusion  ? " 

"  By  deduction." 

"Yes?" 

"Did  not  the  dust  stains  on  the  back  of  the 
trouser-legs  and  at  the  bottom  and  back  of  the  coat 
mean  something  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  confess  that  I  had  forgotten  that  point." 

"  It  was  not  developed,  but  it  was  a  fact  testified 
to.  What  could  it  mean  but  that  Mr.  Somhers'  body 
was  dragged?  And  the  curious  tear  on  the  back 
of  the  coat  ?  And  the  piece  of  cloth  that  was  found 
on  the  small  nail  on  the  side  of  the  couch  ?  Did  they 
not  show  that  the  body  had  been  lifted  —  by  its 
armpits,  presumably — from  the  floor  to  the  couch  ?  " 

"  By  George !  "  cried  Milbrath.  "  You  mean 
that  the  assassin  was  not  strong  enough  to  lift  the 
body  and  carry  it  ?  " 

"  Precisely.  Would  an  able-bodied  young  man 
like  you  pull  a  body,  when  you  could  lift  it  easily 
and  carry  it  noiselessly  and  quickly  ?  " 


AN  ANONYMOUS    LETTER  23 

A  new  thought  seemed  to  come  to  Milbrath,  and 
his  face  lost  its  sudden  glow. 

"  If  the  crime  were  not  premeditated,  if " 

he  began,  and  hesitated.  "  Is  it  not  possible  that 
the  assassin  was  strong,  but  so  startled  by  his  deed 
as  to  become  weak  for  the  moment  ? " 

"  Possible,  but  improbable,  for  there  is  the  ab- 
normal strength  which  excitement  or  fear  gives." 

Mr.  Milbrath  rose.  He  seemed  suddenly  tired. 
He  looked  at  his  watch  again,  this  time  compre- 
hendingly. 

"  I  must  leave  you  ff  I  can  be  of  no  assistance 
just  now,  for  I  wish  to  get  back  to  the  Oriental  to- 
night," he  said.  "  You  sound  logical,  Mr.  Bliss, 
and,  as  you  can  believe,  there  is  no  one  more  anxious 
for  your  success  than  I.  If  you  are  successful  you 
may  count  on  me  to  do  as  well  by  you  as  that  old 
gentleman.  No ;  by  George !  I  '11  go  him  one  better. 
I  will  give  you  forty  thousand  dollars.  But  be  cer- 
tain of  your  man  before  you  hold  him.  I  have 
found,  you  see,  how  hollow  a  thing  is  circumstantial 
evidence." 

I  accompanied  Mr.  Milbrath  to  the  street  door, 
but  Kilbourne,  after  a  listless  handshake  with  the 
young  man,  returned  to  his  chair.  When  I  returned 
he  appeared  to  be  asleep. 

"  Will  you  have  a  game  of  billiards  now  ? "  I 
asked,  rapping  him  on  the  shoulder,  for  I  knew  that 
he  was  awake. 

"  No ;  home  and  bed  for  me,"  with  a  yawn. 
"  I  'm  insufferably  weary  with  listening  to  all  your 
twaddle." 


24    THE    SNARE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

"  Thank  you.  I  hope  you  will  feel  more  agreeable 
in  the  morning.  Was  it  the  oysters  in  August,  or 
the  watermelon  ? " 

"  Ah !  Clevah  lad !  "  and  Kilbourne  eyed  me 
with  a  grin  that  asked  pardon  for  his  words.  "  So 
deuced  clevah !  No ;  it  is  this  protege  of  yours  who 
has  given  me  the  colic." 

"You  don't  like  him?" 

"  Quite  true,  but  not  to  like  people  is  no  uncom- 
mon feature  in  -me,  you  '11  admit." 

"  Be  reasonable.  In  plain  language,  what  do  you 
think  of  Harrison  Milbrath  ?  " 

"  Oh,  your  estimate  of  him  will  pass." 

"  Just  a  big  boy,  saddened  by  a  bitter  experience 
for  which  he  was  blameless  ? " 

"  I  guess  you  have  it,  though  he  knows  more  that 
you  want  to  know  than  he  is  willing  to  tell." 

"  Do  you  think  it  is  anything  that  implicates 
him?"  ' 

"  N-o." 

"  Then  give  me  your  interest  in  this  case.  I  '11 
get  out  of  him  what  he  withheld  to-night  and  you 
will  help  me  clear  his  name." 

"Not  I!" 

"  Because  you  have  taken  one  of  your  absurd 
and  unaccountable  dislikes  to  the  boy !  " 

"  That  may  be  the  reason  why  his  case  does  not 
interest  me.  I  Ve  found,  however,  that  my  '  absurd 
and  unaccountable  dislikes  '  are  pretty  well  founded, 
usually." 

"  On  intuition." 

"  That  is  sufficient." 


AN   ANONYMOUS    LETTER  25 

"  Not  for  a  man  of  your  intellect." 

"  As  you  like  about  that.  It  is  better,  neverthe- 
less, for  that  young  man  and  me  to  remain  a  good 
distance  apart." 

"  Why  ?  "  I  asked,  knowing  full  well  what  the 
substance  of  the  answer  would  be,  for,  before  then, 
I  had  run  up  against  a  similar  phase  of  Murray  Kil- 
bourne's  contradictory  nature. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Milbrath  and  I  are  natural  antago- 
nists. Conversationally  we  should  get  along  ami- 
cably enough ;  but  there  is  something  in  his  life  or 
in  mine  that  will  make  me  want  to  knife  him  before 
we  are  done  with  each  other,"  answered  Kilbourne. 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  Kilbourne !  "  I  cried.  "  The 
good  Lord  certainly  made  a  mistake  when  he  turned 
you  out.  You  were  designed  for  an  old  woman !  " 

Kilbourne  grinned   sympathetically. 

"  All  right,"  he  returned.  "  He  gave  me  broad, 
strong,  masculine  shoulders,  at  all  events.  I  can 
bear  anything  that  you  care  to  call  me." 

I  was  too  annoyed  by  Kilbourne's  attitude  to 
discuss  the  matter  further  with  him  at  that  time,  and 
as  he  persisted  in  his  intention  to  return  home,  we 
parted  for  the  night. 

As  I  passed  through  the  room  on  my  way  to  the 
street  my  attention  was  attracted  to  the  figure  of  a 
small  man  huddled  in  one  of  the  great  chairs,  and  I 
recognized  the  insignificant  figure  as  Barney  Raf- 
ferts,  a  two-penny  detective  whom  I  had  bumped 
against  at  various  times  in  my  reportorial  experience. 

"  Hello,  Barney !  "  I  said,  approaching  him. 
"  Hello,  there !  Don't  pose  sweet  slumber.  I  can 


26    THE   SNAKE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

see  you  winking."  Whereupon  Barney  unclosed  two 
small  and  shifting  eyes,  and  regarded  me  with  a 
yawn. 

"  Ah  there,  Bliss.  Say,  if  you  are  going  out  I 
think  I  '11  join  you.  I  'm  done  here." 

We  walked  across  the  block  to  Broadway  and 
parted  at  once,  for  I  took  the  first  car  that  came  along 
and  left  Rafferts  standing  on  the  corner.  He  was  a 
measly  cur,  a  discredit  to  his  profession,  but  he  was 
too  small  to  win  more  than  a  passing  contempt,  and 
I  quickly  dismissed  him  and  the  conjecture  as  to 
his  probable  mission  to  the  Reform  Club  from  my 
mind  for  the  time. 

The  following  noon,  when  Kilbourne  and  I 
lunched  together  at  the  Astor  House,  Kilbourne  was 
in  a  more  relenting  mood. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  said,  in  answer  to  my  invitation, 
"  I  '11  run  up  to  Winton  for  Sunday  to  see  how  many 
ghosts  you  've  laid  in  the  haunted  castle,  and  maybe 
we  can  track  down  a  working  theory,  if  you  've  not 
caught  one  by  that  time." 

After  lunch  I  had  just  time  to  get  to  my  lodgings 
for  my  suitcase  and  to  the  station  before  my  train 
left 

As  I  let  myself  into  the  house,  my  attention  was 
attracted  to  a  large  white  envelope  lying  upon  the 
shelf  beneath  the  mirror  that  also  served  as  a  hall 
tree  just  inside  the  door.  It  was  addressed  to  me, 
and,  catching  it  up,  I  tore  it  open  hastily  and  pulled 
out  the  sheet  of  white  writing  paper  that  it  contained. 
In  typewriting,  without  heading,  salutation,  or  sig- 
nature, was  this  message: 


AN  ANONYMOUS    LETTER  27 

None  but  the  unwary  or  the  foolish  would  venture 
to  Overlook.  There  is  danger  there  for  YOU.  Be- 
ware of  Horsford. 

I  turned  again  to  the  envelope,  which  was  of 
ordinary  make,  such  as  can  be  purchased  of  any 
stationer.  The  typewritten  address  was  correct,  and 
iny  name  was  given  in  fulL  But  it  bore  neither 
stamp  nor  postmark.  It  had  come,  then,  by  person. 
I  called  the  maids,  both  of  whom  professed  igno- 
rance of  the  note's  arrival.  The  landlady  showed 
acute  mystification.  Her  room  was  the  first  floor 
rear  and  she  had  seen  every  one,  she  said,  who  let 
himself  in  or  out  of  the  house,  or  had  rung,  since 
my  own  departure  in  the  morning.  In  her  opinion, 
the  message  had  been  left  by  some  one  living  in  the 
house,  but  that  idea  I  rejected  mentally,  for  I  knew 
that  no  one  (unless  I  talked  in  my  sleep)  could 
know  of  my  proposed  trip  to  Overlook.  Moreover, 
I  had  communicated  my  intention  of  going  there  to 
but  two  persons,  Kilbourne  and  Milbrath,  and  it 
was  improbable  that  any  one  had  overheard  our  con- 
versation unless 

My  mind  flew  to  Rafferts.  Had  that  miserable 
cur  anything  to  do  with  it?  I  rejected  the  possi- 
bility after  a  moment's  reflection,  for  even  had  he 
overheard  our  conversation  and  wished  to  annoy 
me  by  means  of  an  anonymous  message  it  would  be 
more  like  him  to  leave  it  at  the  club  than  to  shadow 
me  home,  the  only  way,  I  knew,  that  he  could  have 
learned  where  I  lived.  My  mail  and  directory  ad- 
dress had  for  years  been  the  club,  and  I  had  been  in 
my  present  rooming  place  so  short  a  time  that  I  felt 


28    THE   SNAKE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

certain  that  even  Kilbourne  did  not  know  my  street. 
For  the  same  reason  Milbrath  could  not  come  under 
suspicion,  even  had  our  acquaintance  permitted  him 
to  play  such  a  prank. 

But  I  had  no  time  to  consider  the  matter  any 
further  just  then.  I  promised  the  maids  a  liberal 
reward  if  they  could  find  who  left  the  note,  and  then 
I  made  a  dash  for  the  train. 

On  the  way  to  Winton,  the  undercurrent  of  my 
thoughts  was  busy  with  that  mysterious  letter.  Who 
was  Horsf ord  ?  Where  had  I  heard  the  name  ?  But 
I  was  to  know  about  Horsford  —  and  very  soon. 


CHAPTER   IV 

WHO   HOESFOKD   WAS 

village  of  Winton  lies  on  a  neck  of  land  that 
curves  around  like  a  bent  forefinger  pointing 
oceanward.  On  one  side  the  surf  pounds  upon  a 
stony  beach  at  the  foot  of  a  stretch  of  marsh ;  on  the 
other  side,  across  the  tiny  bay,  lies  the  county  seat  of 
Beverly.  The  main  street  follows  the  curve  of  the 
land  from  the  lighthouse  on  the  point  well  back  on 
the  neck;  and  there,  in  neighborly  proximity,  one 
finds  church  and  post  office,  shops  and  homes. 

Where  the  buildings  begin  to  straggle  away  from 
one  another  at  the  north  end  of  the  street,  the  road 
makes  a  sudden  turn  to  the  left  to  within  a  hundred 
yards  of  the  bay,  then  northward  again  for  half  a 
mile,  until  it  appears  to  be  stopped  by  the  grilled 
iron  gates  at  the  main  entrance  to  Overlook.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  the  last  two  hundred  feet  of  this  road 
is  simply  an  approach  to  the  main  drive  to  the  villa, 
which  stands  upon  a  bluff  looking  toward  Beverly, 
while  the  highroad  continues  with  a  flourish  to  the 
right,  on  the  other  side  of  a  small  triangle  of 
woods. 

The  sun,  red  and  uncompromisingly  hot,  was 
sinking  into  a  line  of  sullen  gray  clouds  at  the  hori- 
zon, when  I  stepped  from  the  train  that  August 
evening  and  looked  about  me. 


30    THE    SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

An  uncommonly  attractive  girl,  who  had  attracted 
and  held  my  covert  interest  during  the  trip  and  who 
left  the  car  while  I  was  struggling  with  a  strap  on 
my  suitcase,  had  vanished,  and  she  and  I  appeared 
to  have  been  the  only  passengers  deposited  at  the 
little  station. 

On  the  farther  side  of  the  tracks  the  marsh 
stretched  in  uninterrupted  desolation  to  the  very 
sun  itself,  it  seemed.  The  rails  glistened  in  a  long, 
curving  line  to  the  left,  and  the  train  that  had 
brought  me  became  a  diminishing  object  soon  lost 
to  sight.  From  the  marsh  came  the  monotonous 
croak  of  frogs  and  the  cry  of  a  wild  bird.  . 

A  chill  of  loneliness  swept  over  me,  and  I  turned 
with  an  involuntary  shudder  to  find  myself  face  to 
face  with  an  odd-looking  old  man  who  stood  in  the 
doorway  of  the  one-room  station.  His  face  was  as 
innocent  of  hair  as  a  new  born  babe's,  but  brown 
and  seamed  with  countless  lines.  He  wore  a  wig  of 
pale  brown  hair  a  score  of  years  too  young  for  him, 
and  his  eyes,  small  and  shrewd  and  blue,  met  mine 
with  an  amused  twinkle. 

"  Purty  scen'ry,"  he  volunteered  cheerfully,  with 
a  wave  of  his  hand  toward  the  desolate  marshland. 

"  To  be  sure.  Can  you  tell  me  how  far  Overlook 
is  from  here  ?  " 

The  old  man  looked  me  over  curiously. 

"Overlook  ?"  he  repeated.  "  W-all,  I  guess  I  can, 
but  p'raps  you  don'  know  there  ain't  nobody  livin' 
at  Overlook  now  but  the  farmer." 

"Yes;  I  do  know.  It  is  the  farmer  I  want  to 
see." 


WHO   HORSFOKD    WAS  31 

"  Ho !    W-all,  it 's  a  consid'able  ways  out  there." 

"  Is  there  any  one  about  here  who  will  drive  me 
out?" 

"  W-all,  my  boy  Hank  '11  have  to  take  ye  if  I  say 
so,  an'  if  ye  don'  mind  waitin'  'round  till  we  can 
hitch  up." 

"  Thank  you.  I  will  wait.  I  dare  say  it  will  not 
take  long?" 

"  'Bout  fifteen  min'ets.  Say,  I  'm  station  agent 
here,  an'  I  'm  going  to  shet  up  fer  the  night.  That 
was  the  last  train  till  six  to-morror  mornin'.  Don' 
mind  comin'  'cross  the  road  to  my  house,  d'  ye,  while 
we  fix  ye  out  with  a  rig  ?  " 

"No;    I  will  go." 

We  took  a  few  steps  in  silence.  Then  the  old 
man  looked  up  at  me,  curiosity  overrunning  every 
feature. 

"  My  name  's  John  Hutton,"  he  said.  , 

"  Mine  is  Bliss,"  I  responded. 

"  Good  I    Ye  're  from  N>  Yo'k,  I  s'ppose  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Hum !  W-all,  there  's  my  house."  He  spoke 
with  pride  as  he  pointed  to  a  cottage  opposite  the 
rear  of  the  station.  "  An'  that 's  my  wife  on  the 
p'azzie.  Here,  Eliza  Ann,  this  stranger  is  a-goin' 
to  wait  while  Hank  hitches  up  to  take  him  to 
Overlook." 

I  declined  the  proffered  chair  and  seated  myself 
on  a  step.  Hutton  disappeared  immediately,  and 
Mrs.  Hutton  continued  to  sway  placidly  to  and  fro 
in  her  big  chair,  her  plump  hands  crossed  upon  her 
ample  stomach.  Presently  she  spoke. 


32    THE   SNARE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

"  Overlook  ain't  so  much  of  a  place  now  the  old 
man  's  gone,"  she  said. 

"  I  dare  say  it  has  run  down." 

"  An'  they  do  say  over  village  way  it 's  for  rent, 
after  all  that  happened  there,  too.  Who  'd  want  to 
live  there,  /  'd  like  to  know  ?  " 

I  laughed. 

"  I  think  I  shall  not  mind.  I  've  taken  it  for  a 
time,"  I  answered. 

The  old  lady  looked  interested. 

"  For  the  land's  sake !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  You 
don'  say !  "  and  she  continued  to  regard  me  in 
amused  meditation.  "  You  've  got  good  nerves,  I 
s'ppose  ? "  she  volunteered  presently. 

"  I  have  always  believed  so." 

"  W-all,  that 's  a  good  thing,  I  sh'd  say.  I  don' 
wan'  to  scare  you  since  you  've  got  the  place  on  your 
han's,  but  over  village  way  they  do  say  that  Mr. 
Somhers  comes  back  to  Overlook  sometimes.  You  'd 
better  not  tell  your  wife  that  when  she  comes.  I  'm 
just  a-tellin'  you  so  you  can  be  lookin'  out.  Any 
children,  have  you  ?  " 

"  I  'm  a  bachelor." 

"  You  don'  say !  "  A  long  pause.  "  An'  you 
takin'  the  Place  of  Silence  ?  That 's  most  as  bad  as 
Mr.  Somhers  himself.  I  never  could  see  what  a  man 
wants  to  live  alone  for." 

At  that  moment  Mr.  Hutton  appeared  to  an- 
nounce that  the  "  hoss  an'  buggy  "  were  ready,  and 
I  paid  my  adieux  to  Mrs.  Hutton,  who  suddenly 
wondered  whether  I  would  like  "  a  bite  o'  somethin' 
to  eat." 


WHO   HOKSFOKD    WAS  33 

I  assured  her,  with  thanks,  that  doubtless  I  should 
be  able  to  get  supper  at  the  farm,  and  left  her  smil- 
ing placidly. 

It  was  quite  apparent  that  the  raw-boned  lad  of 
fifteen  or  thereabouts,  whom  the  station  master  in- 
formally introduced  as  u  my  gran'boy,  Hank,"  was 
not  over-delighted  with  the  idea  of  conveying  me 
to  Overlook. 

"  I  ain't  got  no  use  fer  that  place,"  he  declared 
unexpectedly  when  we  were  well  on  the  way. 
"  This  's  the  third  time  gran'dad  's  sent  me  out  here 
at  dark  with  some  city  feller  like  you.  Wish  that 
seven  o'clock  train  got  in  at  noon,  I  do,"  and  Hank 
kicked  the  dashboard  vindictively." 

"  Say,"  he  continued  presently,  looking  at  me  with 
new  interest,  "  air  you  a  detective  ? " 
'  "  What  gave  you  an  idea  that   I  might  be   a 
detective  ? " 

"  Over  village  way  here  they  say  Harry  Milbrath, 
who  killed  his  uncle,  is  trying  to  make  folks  think  he 
did  n't  do  it  by  sendin'  detective  men  up  from  N* 
Yo'k  to  look  's  as  if  they  was  tryin'  to  fin'  out  some- 
body else  that  did  it.  The  other  two  fellers  was  de- 
tectives, I  guess." 

I  had  a  fancy  that  the  boy  was  right  on  that  point. 

"  Pretty  nice  place,  Overlook,  is  n't  it  ?  "  I  asked 
after  a  minute. 

The  boy  hunched  his  shoulders  but  did  not  an- 
swer; nor  could  I  induce  him  to  further  conver- 
sation. 

We  were  passing  through  the  village  by  this  time, 
and  I  observed,  first  with  amusement,  then  with 

3 


34    THE   SNARE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

something  akin  to  discomfort,  that  we  were  the 
centre  of  attraction.  There  appeared  to  be  some- 
thing unusual  about  us,  for  though  it  was  dusk,  men 
paused  and  looked  back  at  us.  At  first  I  supposed 
my  companion  to  be  the  source  of  this  attention, 
but  I  overheard  a  word  spoken  by  one  of  a  group  of 
men  standing  upon  the  steps  of  the  post  office  that 
enlightened  me. 

"  Is  it  because  we  are  going  to  Overlook  that 
people  stare  at  us  ? "  I  asked  Henry. 

"Yep." 

"  Good  heavens !  Does  no  one  in  town  ever  go 
up  to  the  place  ?  " 

"  Nope.  " 

"Why?" 

No  answer. 

"  Do  you  think  me  a  detective  ?  " 

"  Yep.  " 

By  this  time  we  had  turned  off  the  main  street, 
and  it  was  a  country  road  over  which  we  jogged. 
The  soft  summer  dusk  had  settled  all  around  us,  and 
the  only  sounds  that  broke  upon  the  air  besides  the 
pounding  of  the  horse's  feet  upon  the  earth  and  the 
rattle  of  the  "  buggy  "  were  the  croak  of  frogs  and 
the  gentle  "  swish  "  of  water  lapping  the  beach  be- 
low. It  was  a  silence  which,  in  my  present  state  of 
mind,  seemed  uncanny.  I  sighed  with  relief  when 
Henry  drove  into  a  private  roadway  and  almost  im- 
mediately pulled  up  before  a  small  red-roofed  house. 
We  had  taken  the  highroad  to  the  left  of  the  wooded 
triangle  and  reached  the  cottage  of  the  farmer  of 
Overlook. 


35 

"  There,"  said  Henry,  in  a  tone  of  relief,  "  here 
you  be,  an'  I  hope  you  don'  wan'  me  to  stay  ?  " 

"  No ;  here  's  your  money.  I  'm  much  obliged 
to  you."  And  I  could  not  resist  adding:  "Now 
go  quick  before  the  ghost  of  the  Place  of  Silence 
catches  you."  And  then  I  stepped  back  and  laughed 
heartily  at  the  rapidity  with  which  the  lad  whirled 
around  and  was  off. 

I  turned  to  the  door  of  the  cottage  to  find  it  open 
and  myself  face  to  face  with  a  youngish  man,  broad 
and  athletic  in  appearance,  beardless  and  sunburned 
—  scarcely  the  man  I  expected  to  see  there,  for  my 
conception  of  Mr.  Arms  was  of  a  lean  man  and 
elderly. 

"  I  wish  to  see  Mr.  Arms,"  I  said. 

"  'E  is  yonder,"  answered  the  man,  pointing 
northeastward.  "  There  is  a  white  'ouse  with  green 
blinds  ten  minutes  beyond.  'E  lives  there." 

"  Is  this  not  Overlook  ?  " 

"Aye,  sir." 

"  And  is  not  Mr.  Arms  the  farmer  here  ?  " 

"  'E  was,  sir,"  corrected  the  man  laconically,  "but 
I  ham  the  farmer  now." 

"  Indeed !  "  It  seemed  curious  that  Mr.  Milbrath 
should  have  given  me  an  introduction  to  a  man  no 
longer  on  the  place.  It  looked  as  if  he  did  not  know 
of  the  change.  I  could  not  see,  however,  that  it 
made  much  difference  to  me. 

"  Well,  then,"  I  answered,  "  you,  not  Mr.  Arms, 
are  the  man  I  want.  I  am  the  new  tenant  for  Over- 
look. My  man  will  be  on  to-morrow.  In  the  mean- 
time can  you  give  me  shelter  and  food?  This  note 


36    THE   SNAKE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

from  Mr.  Milbrath  will  explain  the  situation,"  and 
I  handed  him  the  introduction. 

Instantly  the  same  expression  of  curiosity  that  I 
had  observed  on  the  face  of  nearly  every  one  who 
had  looked  at  me  since  I  arrived  in  Winton  came 
into  this  man's  face. 

"  Aye,  sir,"  he  responded  courteously,  "  hut,"  he 
hesitated,  "  if  you  will  excuse  me,  sir,  I  think  you 
will  be  more  comfortable  with  my  cousin,  who  is 
Mr.  Arms.  I  can  drive  you  hover.  The  rooms  'ere 
are  small  and " 

"  That  will  not  bother  me  in  the  least,"  I  inter- 
rupted, "  and  I  do  not  wish  to  put  you  or  your  wife 
to  any  trouble.  A  bed  or  a  cot  anywhere  will  do 
for  the  night.  I  dare  say  I  shall  be  able  to  get  into 
the  villa  to-morrow." 

The  man's  heavy  brows  lowered  a  trifle,  but  his 
voice  remained  even  and  courteous. 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  accommodate  you,  sir,  but 
my  wife  is  —  far  from  well." 

A  young  woman  whom  I  had  observed  through 
the  open  door  of  an  adjoining  room  now  came  slowly 
forward,  a  toddling  child  clutching  at  her  skirts. 

"  Harsk  the  gentleman  in,  Joe,"  she  interrupted 
sharply,  "  and  I  will  lay  out  a  bite  for  'im  before  I 
'ush  the  babe  to  sleep." 

The  man,  whose  large  form  had  blocked  the  door- 
way, made  room  for  me  to  pass  within,  and  as  I  did 
so  I  heard  the  woman  mutter  beneath  her  breath 
to  him :  "  'Ave  you  no  sense,  you  ?  " 

Both  man  and  woman  spoke  with  a  distinct  Cock- 
ney accent,  and  I  was  not  long  in  learning  from  the 


37 

woman  as  she  moved  about  getting  ready  some  food 
that  they  had  come  from  England  a  short  time  be- 
fore Mr.  Somhers'  tragic  end ;  that  Mr.  Arms,  who 
had  been  beneficiary  to  five  thousand  dollars  by  the 
will  of  Mr.  Somhers,  had  shortly  thereafter  bought 
the  little  place  on  which  he  was  now  living  and  had 
recommended  that  his  cousin  Joe  be  placed  in  charge 
of  Overlook  farm  and  grounds  until,  at  least,  affairs 
connected  with  the  estate  should  be  settled. 

When  I  had  finished  the  meal,  the  woman  had 
disappeared  with  the  child,  and  I  walked  out  to  the 
tiny  portico  where  Joe  sat,  pipe  in  mouth,  with  his 
feet  against  the  rail  and  his  chair  tilted  back  against 
the  house.  He  rose  at  once  and  offered  me  his 
chair,  but  I  took  the  steps,  saying  that  I  would  like 
to  sit  there  a  while  and  smoke  a  cigar. 

To  my  disappointment  I  found  that  Joe  could  not 
be  induced  to  talk,  and  we  sat  in  a  silence  that 
seemed  to  grow  deeper  and  more  depressing  as  the 
twilight  faded  into  night.  I  hailed  with  relief, 
therefore,  the  reappearance  of  the  wife,  whom  I 
had  found  to  be  possessed  of  a  loquacious  tongue.  I 
encouraged  her  to  join  us,  though  I  clearly  saw  that 
her  husband  opposed  her  coming.  She  needed  little 
encouragement  to  talk,  and  once  started  she  chatted 
unceasingly  like  a  child  —  mostly  about  her  former 
connection  with  Lord  Lindley's  family,  of  which  she 
appeared  proud ;  and  she  laughed  a  good  deal,  and 
rather  noisily. 

After  a  little  she  grew  suddenly  quiet,  and  I  saw 
in  the  dim  light  that  her  head  had  sunk  to  her  hus- 
band's arm  and  that  she  slept. 


38    THE    SNAKE    OF  .  CIRCUMSTANCE 

Joe  looked  down  upon  the  quiet  face  and  heaved 
a  sigh.  Was  it  of  relief?  It  occurred  to  me  what 
he  had  said  of  his  wife's  health.  She  looked  well  — 
as  robust  and  buxom  as  a  dairy  maid,  and  of  much 
that  type.  "  But,"  I  meditated  prosaically,  "  ap- 
pearances are  not  to  be  relied  upon."  The  thought 
suggested  the  time.  Doubtless  it  was  past  the  hour 
these  simple-living,  early  risers  were  in  the  habit 
of  retiring. 

"  If  you  will  show  me  where  I  am  to  sleep,  I  will 
leave  you  for  the  night,"  I  said. 

The  man  rose  and  transferred  the  woman's  head 
to  the  chair  seat  —  for  she  was  sitting  on  a  low  stool. 
She  did  not  rouse,  and  I  marveled  that  in  so  short 
a  time  she  should  sleep  so  soundly. 

We  crossed  the  living  room,  and  the  man  threw 
open  a  door  at  the  farther  end  where  a  lamp  burned. 

"  It  is  not  much,  sir,"  he  said,  "  but  the  woman 
'as  made  it  ready." 

"  It  will  do  very  well,"  I  responded.  "  By  the 
way,  is  your  name  Arms  ?  " 

"  It  is  not,  sir." 

"  Then  what  is  it  ?  " 

The  man  turned  from  me  with  a  start,  for  there 
was  a  low  moan  from  the  portico. 

"  My  name,  sir,"  he  said,  "  is  Joseph  'Orsford. 
Good  night,  sir.  I  would  harsk  that  you  bolt  ye  're 
door."  And  he  was  halfway  back  to  the  portico 
before  I  had  recovered  sufficiently  from  the  start 
his  words  gave  me  to  close  myself  within  the  room 
that  had  been  prepared  for  me. 


CHAPTER   V 

A    NIGHT    IN    THE    COTTAGE 

"  JOSEPH  'ORSFORD,  sir." 

*J  The  answer  had  come  quietly  enough,  yet  it 
had  fallen  on  my  ears  like  the  explosion  of  a  bomb. 
So  this  was  the  man  against  whom  my  anonymous 
correspondent  warned  me !  He  was  a  harmless  ap- 
pearing man,  stolid  and  not  clever,  but  not  bad, 
surely ;  a  type  of  Briton  very  common  in  and  near 
London,  not  always  a  farmer  —  a  'bus  or  cab  driver, 
more  likely,  or,  perhaps,  a  mechanic. 

i  had  ceased  to  regard  the  warning  as  a  practical 
joke,  but  as  I  was  still  in  the  dark  concerning  its 
purpose  or  its  author  —  for  I  had  abandoned  the 
idea  that  Barney  Rafferts  had  anything  to  do  with 
it  —  I  had  resolved  to  act  without  reference  to 
it,  except  as  to  keeping  myself  alert  to  discover 
whence  it  came. 

After  the  first  shock  of  surprise,  therefore,  I 
threw  off  all  thought  connected  with  my  new  duties 
and,  peacefully  puffing  my  pipe.  I  indulged  in  a 
short  series  of  dreams  and  speculations  concerning 
the  girl  who  also  had  arrived  in  Winton  that 
evening. 

Rousing  from  that  pleasant  pastime,  I  turned 
into  bed  for  a  night  of  sound  sleep  —  as  I  fancied 
at  the  time. 


40    THE    SNARE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

I  was  bordering  on  slumber,  I  think,  when  I  be- 
came conscious  of  a  sound  which  brought  rne  sud- 
denly into  a  sitting  posture  in  the  bed  and  put  all 
my  faculties  at  once  upon  the  alert.  There  was  a 
moment's  silence,  and  then  it  came  again  —  a  long, 
low  wail,  followed  presently  by  a  sharp  snarl,  as  of 
rage.  Then  came  a  sibilation  of  quick  whispers, 
and,  after  a  little,  a  sob,  a  woman's  piteous  sob. 

Noiselessly  I  left  my  bed  and  crept  to  the  window. 
A  young  moon  lay  low  on  the  horizon,  and  in  the 
light  which  it  shed  upon  the  earth  I  could  distin- 
guish dimly  in  the  distance  the  shining  roofs  of  a 
building  hidden  behind  the  trees  —  the  villa  of 
Overlook,  no  doubt,  where  Mr.  Somhers  had  come 
to  his  untimely  end. 

Slowly,  and  careful  to  make  no  noise,  I  opened 
the  shutters  of  the  window.  But  there  was  nothing 
either  human  or  animal  in  sight;  the  noise  had 
been  within  the  house.  Hastily  I  slipped  on  some 
clothing  and  stepped  to  the  door  leading  into  the 
front  room,  prepared  to  go  out  and  learn  more  if 
the  sound  came  again.  But  it  was  not  repeated, 
and,  after  a  time,  I  tiptoed  back  to  the  bed  and 
threw  myself  upon  it  dressed,  prepared,  however, 
to  court  sleep.  But  none  came.  My  mind  was  still 
alert  and  insistent  upon  taking  up  the  threads  of 
the  Somhers  tragedy,  which  I  had  resolutely  kept 
from  dwelling  upon  since  my  arrival  upon  the 
scene  of  its  enactment. 

I  recalled  my  first  acquaintance  with  the  old 
gentleman  —  not  old  then,  but  in  active  middle  life. 
He  had  recently  lost  his  wife,  and  his  mind  was  so 


A   NIGHT   IN   THE   COTTAGE        41 

full  of  his  grief  that  a  change  of  scene  had  become 
imperative.  I  was  a  lad  at  the  time,  taking  with  my 
parents  my  first  trip  across  the  ocean.  Mr.  Som- 
hers  and  my  father  became  interested  in  each  other 
as  soon  as  they  found  themselves  side  by  side  upon 
the  steamer's  deck.  During  the  winter  that  followed 
our  return  home,  Mr.  Somhers  visited  us,  and  for 
many  years  thereafter  —  so  long  as  my  father  lived, 
indeed,  Mr.  Somhers  and  he  kept  friendly  tabs  on 
each  other.  It  had  been  Mr.  Somhers'  custom  to 
spend  a  portion  of  each  winter  in  New  York,  so  it 
was  possible  for  my  father  and  him  to  continue  their 
pleasant  relations. 

I  had  not  seen  Mr.  Somhers  for  perhaps  twelve 
years  previous  to  his  death.  My  recollection  of  him 
was  of  an  alert-looking  man  of  middle  height,  with 
hair  whitening  about  the  temples,  who  had  once 
taken  me  upon  his  knees  on  the  deck  of  an  ocean 
liner  and  had  entertained  me  with  tales  of  another 
little  boy,  whose  name,  Mr.  Somhers  said,  was  Ro- 
land; but  Mr.  Somhers  told  me  that  he  had  gone 
far,  far  away  —  too  far  for  me  to  see  him  for  a  long 
time. 

Some  years  before  my  father's  death  Mr.  Somhers 
bought  Overlook,  and  my  father  visited  him.  I  re- 
member that  father  spoke  on  his  return  home  of  the 
orphaned  nephew,  younger  than  I,  whom  Mr.  Som- 
hers had  taken  to  live  with  him,  and  I  recollect  that 
he  predicted  that  the  lad,  who  was  active  and  rest- 
less and  for  whom  Mr.  Somhers  had  no  affection, 
would  not  have  an  easy  boyhood.  The  next  that  I 
recall  hearing  of  Mr.  Somhers  was  of  his  tragic  end. 


42    THE   SNAKE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

The  case  was  a  particularly  mysterious  and  com- 
plex one,  it  seemed  to  me,  but  the  men  who  were 
assigned  to  investigate  it  reached  quick  conclusions, 
and  they  were  prepared  by  the  end  of  the  first  week 
to  lay  the  responsibility  for  the  deed,  with  an  out- 
wardly convincing  chain  of  proof,  at  the  door  of 
the  nephew,  Harrison  Milbrath. 

Detail  upon  detail  that  had  not  occurred  to  me 
when  I  outlined  the  case  to  Kilbourne  flashed 
through  my  mind.  Evidence  had  developed  the 
fact  that  Mr.  Somhers  and  his  nephew  had  lived 
together  under  stirring  conditions.  With  servants 
and  acquaintances  in  general  Mr.  Somhers  had  a 
reputation  of  being  amicable  and  benevolent,  a 
student  who  preferred  his  books  to  animate  com- 
panionship, but  who  greeted  the  occasional  visitor 
to  Overlook  with  an  old-world  courtesy. 

With  Harrison  Milbrath  he  was  the  reverse.  He 
made  no  secret  of  his  aversion  to  the  lad,  whom 
most  people  were  disposed  to  like,  and  before  Harry's 
departure  for  college  the  violent  quarrels  in  which 
uncle  and  nephew  engaged  were  town  talk. 

On  the  12th  of  October  following  Harry's  gradua- 
tion from  college,  the  servants  in  the  house  heard 
unusually  loud  voices  in  Mr.  Somhers'  library. 
Shortly  thereafter  Harrison  Milbrath  left  the 
house.  At  the  luncheon  hour  the  housemaid  tapped 
upon  Mr.  Somhers'  door,  as  usual,  announcing 
lunch.  Sometimes  Mr.  Somhers  answered  the  sum- 
mons, as  often  he  did  not;  and  it  was  an  under- 
stood condition  in  the  household  that  the  meal  was 
not  to  be  kept  for  him  after  a  given  time.  On  this 


A   NIGHT   IN    THE   COTTAGE        43 

day  he  did  not  lunch ;  neither  did  Milbrath  appear. 
At  six  o'clock  the  dinner  gong  was  sounded  and 
when  the  half  hour  had  passed  without  the  appear- 
ance in  the  dining  room  of  either  Mr.  Somhers  or 
the  younger  man  the  housemaid  again  tapped  at 
the  library  door.  There  was  no  answer. 

She  tapped  again  and  again,  and  then,  with  a 
curiosity  that  she  could  not  resist,  she  cautiously 
turned  the  doorknob.  The  door  yielded  to  her  touch, 
and  she  peeped  inside.  The  room  was  in  darkness, 
but  the  light  from  the  entry  streamed  in  through 
the  open  door  and  fell  directly  upon  the  figure  of 
Mr.  Somhers  recumbent  upon  the  couch.  There  was 
nothing  unusual  in  his  attitude,  so  far  as  the  girl 
could  describe,  but  with  a  prescience  of  calamity 
she  fled  screaming  to  the  kitchen.  She  declared  that 
Mr.  Somhers  was  dead,  and  continued  to  scream 
until  she  fainted. 

The  stableman,  who  was  eating  his  evening  meal 
in  the  kitchen  at  the  moment,  acceding  to  the  clamor 
of  the  cook,  went  reluctantly  to  the  library,  declar- 
ing that  Mr.  Somhers  was  probably  only  asleep  and 
that  he  would  lose  his  job  for  his  interference.  What 
he  saw  turned  him  cold  with  horror  and  —  well, 
half  an  hour  later  all  Winton  knew  that  the  esti- 
mable Peter  Somhers  had  met  a  tragic  end. 

He  lay  upon  his  back  on  the  couch,  his  hands  and 
feet  hanging  over  it,  a  gash  upon  his  left  temple  and 
eye.  Life  had  been  extinct,  physicians  said,  fully 
two  hours.  The  curious  fact  that  I  had  mentioned 
to  Kilbourne  of  the  absence  of  blood  stains,  except 
on  the  body  and  clothes  of  the  victim,  had  not  been 


44    THE   SNAKE   OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

dwelt  upon  sufficiently,  it  seemed  to  me.  From  the 
nature  of  the  wound  it  must  have  bled  freely.  Had 
the  assassin  stopped,  then,  after  his  terrible  deed, 
to  staunch  the  flow  of  life-blood  ?  It  seemed  so,  and 
he  must  have  taken  away  with  him  the  cloth  or 
sponge  used  for  that  purpose.  And  the  oilcloth! 
From  where  had  that  come,  that  no  one  recognized 
it? 

On  the  morning  following,  Harrison  Milbrath, 
white  and  hollow-eyed,  returned  to  Winton  on  the 
southbound  train.  He  had  been  in  Boston  he  said, 
from  four  o'clock  on  the  previous  afternoon,  until 
that  morning  when,  on  reading  the  shocking  news 
of  his  uncle's  death,  he  had  hurried  back. 

When  he  came  to  trial,  the  prosecution  made  out 
a  different  situation.  He  had  quarreled  with  his 
uncle  in  the  morning,  it  asserted,  and  had  left  the 
house  a  little  later,  looking  pale  and  fierce.  He  had 
eaten  dinner  at  noon  at  the  village  hotel,  after 
which  he  walked  back  to  Overlook,  entered  the 
house  quietly  by  means  of  his  latchkey  and  attacked 
his  uncle  with  murderous  intent.  He  had  paused 
to  staunch  the  flow  of  blood  and  to  move  his  victim 
to  the  couch,  or,  possibly,  he  had  killed  him  as  he 
slept.  Then  he  slipped  through  the  library  win- 
dow found  unlocked,  or  boldly  left  by  the  front 
door  which  locked  behind  him.  Then  the  prose- 
cution produced  the  conductor  of  the  five  o'clock 
train  from  Beverly  to  Boston,  who  swore  that  Mil- 
brath had  been  a  passenger  on  his  train  on  October 
12th. 

Milbrath's  defense  denied  this.     He  had  started 


A   NIGHT   IN    THE   COTTAGE        45 

for  Boston  at  one-thirty.  Unfortunately,  however, 
the  conductor  of  the  one-thirty  train  could  not  recall 
his  passengers  of  that  day  sufficiently  well  to  verify 
this  assertion.  Milbrath  was  fairly  well  known 
among  the  trainmen  on  the  Boston  trains,  for, 
being  a  Harvard  man,  he  had  been  a  frequent 
patron  of  the  road  that  passed  through  Beverly. 
But  as  misfortune  would  have  it,  the  men  in  charge 
of  both  afternoon  trains  on  October  12th  were  com- 
parative strangers  to  that  section. 

The  defense  did  not,  however,  deny  that  there 
had  been  an  unusually  stormy  scene  between  uncle 
and  nephew  on  the  morning  preceding  the  tragedy, 
nor  did  it  challenge  the  state's  evidence  that  Mil- 
brath dined  at  the  village  hostelry  and  later  re- 
turned to  Overlook.  But  it  averred  that  the  de- 
fendant had  not  seen  his  uncle  after  the  morning's 
disagreement.  He  returned  for  his  suitcase,  which 
was  packed  to  be  taken  away,  for  he  had  previously 
planned  a  trip  to  Boston  that  day.  He  entered  the 
house,  not  by  means  of  his  latchkey,  but  through  a 
side  door  which  he  tried  and  found  unlocked  — 
notwithstanding  the  testimony  of  the  maids  that 
this  door  and  all  other  outside  doors  were  locked 
that  day.  He  went  directly  to  his  room  on  the 
second  floor  where  he  remained  for  ten  minutes, 
and  then  went  out  of  the  house  and  walked  through 
the  woods  to  the  Beverly  station. 

At  the  second  trial,  six  months  later,  the  state 
and  the  defense  offered  practically  the  same  evi- 
dence, but  this  time  Harrison  Milbrath  proved  an 
alibi  on  the  day  of  the  murder. 


46    THE   SNARE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

To  the  astonishment  of  every  one,  it  seemed,  an 
elderly  gentleman  of  unquestionable  reliability  (I 
recalled  definitely  at  that  moment  that  it  was  a 
clergyman)  testified  that  he  met  Harrison  Milbrath 
at  the  Park  Square  station  in  Boston  at  four  o'clock 
on  the  afternoon  of  October  12th,  and  that  Mil- 
brath and  he  were  together  until  late  in  the  even- 
ing. He  maintained  this  assertion  through  a  rapid 
fire  of  cross-examination,  but  with  good-humored 
wit  parried  every  question  that  would  lead  him  into 
a  quagmire  of  explanation.  It  was  no  one's  affair, 
he  informed  the  state,  why  Mr.  Milbrath  and  he 
were  together  that  day.  It  should  be  sufficient  that 
the  three  witnesses  who  corroborated  his  testimony 
were  reliable  persons. 

Step  by  step  my  memory  carried  me  back  over 
the  details  of  the  case ;  even  the  names  of  many  of 
the  witnesses,  with  the  mental  pictures  that  I  had 
formed  of  their  appearance,  came  back  to  me  viv- 
idly. Suddenly  out  from  all  the  others  stood  one 
name,  that  of  the  housemaid  who  found  Mr.  Som- 
hers'  body  on  the  couch,  who  had  been  so  badly 
overcome,  who,  also,  had  been  the  state's  chief  wit- 
ness in  the  matter  of  the  family  jars,  and  who  had 
sworn  that  all  outside  doors  were"  locked  at  Overlook 
on  that  eventful  afternoon  of  October  12th  —  Mag- 
gie Arms! 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE    PLACE    OF    SILENCE 

~\TOT WITHSTANDING  my  involved  introspec- 
-^  tion,  I  must  have  fallen  asleep  quickly  and 
rested  well,  for  the  next  sound  of  which  I  was  con- 
scious was  a  baby's  voice  cooing  happily,  and  a 
man's  full  bass  essaying  to  still  it  with  a  frequent 
low  "tut!  tut!" 

I  looked  at  my  watch.  It  was  half  past  six,  and 
the  sunlight  lay  in  yellow  shafts  on  the  grass  be- 
tween the  trees  outside  my  window. 

I  dressed  hastily  and  went  into  the  living  room. 
As  I  did  so,  Mr.  Horsford  came  from  the  kitchen 
with  the  child,  still  cooing  and  sputtering,  in  his 
arms. 

"  A  bright  bit  o'  day  we  are  'avin',  sir,"  he  said, 
after  the  usual  exchange  of  greetings.  "  I  'ope  you 
rested  well,  sir  ?  "  He  looked  at  me  steadily,  his 
eyes  narrowing  as  he  uttered  the  last  words.  He 
appeared  relieved  when  I  assured  him  that  I  re- 
membered nothing  from  the  moment  I  fell  asleep 
until  six-thirty. 

That  ended  our  conversation  for  the  time,  for 
Horsford  seemed  as  uncommunicative  as  on  the 
previous  evening.  His  wife,  too,  appeared  to  have 
sobered  down  considerably  and  was  almost  as  taci- 
turn as  her  husband. 


48    THE   SXARE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

She  served  my  breakfast  on  the  round  table  in 
the  front  room,  where  she  had  given  me  supper,  and 
I  observed  that  the  high  color  I  had  noted  in  the 
evening  was  somewhat  dimmed,  and  that  shadows 
of  purple  lay  beneath  her  eyes,  the  lids  of  which 
she  persistently  kept  lowered.  Horsford  kept  the 
child  by  him,  and  when  I  had  done  with  the  meal 
he  put  the  boy  in  a  tiny  playground  fenced  in  with 
tennis  wire  which  he  had  constructed  within  view 
of  the  kitchen  windows,  and  came  to  the  portico,  a 
string  of  keys  dangling  in  his  hand. 

"  'Appen  you  will  want  to  'ave  a  look  at  Hover- 
look,  sir,"  he  said.  "  If  you  would  wish,  sir,  I 
can  go  yonder  wi'  you  before  I  go  again  t'  the 
field." 

I  should  have  preferred  to  sit  on  the  portico  while 
I  smoked  a  cigar  and,  perchance,  get  a  few  words 
with  Mrs.  Horsford.  I  was  keenly  curious  to  know 
the  meaning  of  those  sounds  of  the  night  before, 
and  if  any  one  in  that  household  were  likely  to  help 
me  to  the  facts  it  was  that  good  housewife  herself 
with  her  loquacious  tongue.  I  did  not  like  the  at- 
mosphere of  mystery  at  the  cottage,  and,  taken  in 
connection  with  the  revelation  which  the  name  of 
the  housemaid  had  brought  me,  I  could  but  con- 
jecture that  the  Arms  family  knew  more  about  Mr. 
Somhers'  death  than  had  been  developed  at  the  time 
of  Mr.  Milbrath's  trials,  that  the  Horsfords  were  in 
possession  of  the  facts,  and  that  Horsford  intimi- 
dated his  wife  lest  her  voluble  speech  get  them  into 
trouble.  These,  however,  were  but  conjectures,  and 
as  I  had  no  plausible  excuse  to  decline  Hereford's 


THE   PLACE   OF   SILENCE  49 

offer  I  proceeded  at  once  with  him  up  the  gravel 
road. 

This  road  was,  in  fact,  a  beautiful  drive  lined 
with  elm  trees,  and  it  led  directly  to  the  rear  of  the 
villa,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant. 

On  the  right  of  the  drive  lay  a  hollow  of  green 
pasture  lands,  with  grain  fields  and  garden  rising 
beyond.  On  the  left,  a  miniature  forest  ran  into 
the  triangle  of  woods  of  which  I  have  already 
spoken. 

Near  the  cottage  we  passed  a  grain  house  and  a 
barn  for  farming  implements;  beyond  were  the 
stables  and  ice  house,  and  back  of  the  villa  I  caught 
a  glimpse  of  a  long,  low  hothouse,  then  in  disuse, 
and  a  stretch  of  sunken  gardens,  which  in  Mr.  Som- 
hers'  time  had  been  gay  with  flowers,  but  which  then 
were  plantless  and  grass-grown.  The  fountain,  too, 
with  its  gilded  Mercury,  was  silent  and  dry.  I  was 
surprised  that  the  grounds  were  so  green  and  well 
kept,  but  Horsford  explained  that  it  was  Mr.  Mil- 
brath's  order  that  the  place,  which  had  been  his 
uncle's  pride,  should  not  become  weed-clogged. 
Here  and  there  among  the  trees  a  bit  of  statuary 
gleamed,  and  ahead  the  waters  of  the  bay  shim- 
mered and  danced  in  the  morning  sunshine. 

The  villa  stood  upon  a  bluff,  and  from  its  front 
door  a)  serpentine  driveway  wound  and  twisted 
among  grassed  terraces  to  the  iron  entrance  gates, 
thirty  feet  or  more  below.  The  building  itself  was 
of  gray  stone,  blackened  with  age,  on  which  wood- 
bine everywhere  crawled  and  twined.  The  main 
structure  was  square  with  two  wide  porticos,  one 

4 


50    THE    SNAKE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

above  the  other,  on  the  front.  From  either  side  a 
one-story  addition  stretched  out  like  wings. 

Horsford  maintained  a  stolid  silence,  broken  only 
by  laconic  answers  to  my  occasional  queries,  as  we 
traversed  the  distance  between  the  cottage  and  the 
house.  If  he  was  curious  as  to  how  I  purposed  to 
live  with  the  help  of  only  one  man  in  this  big, 
lonely  old  house,  he  did  not  betray  it. 

At  the  portico  he  paused. 

"  If  you  are  wantin'  'elp  to  straighten  things  hout 
a  bit,"  he  said,  "  my  wife  could  get  you  someun  to 
do  it.  It  may  seem  'er  place,  sir,  to  hoffer  to  'elp, 
but  she  'as  such  an  'orror  of  the  'ouse  I  'm  afraid 
I  should  'ave  'ard  work  to  make  'er  come  up,  sir." 

To  have  Mrs.  Horsford,  or  any  one,  clean  Over- 
look before  I  had  an  opportunity  to  go  over  it  care- 
fully was  the  last  thing  for  which  I  wished. 

"  Do  not  try,"  I  answered.  "  My  man,  Gaspard, 
will  be  here  on  the  evening  train,  and  he  will  do  all 
that  needs  to  be  done.  I  intend  to  live  simply,  and 
shall  try  to  make  the  most  of  the  good  fishing  I  am 
told  is  a  feature  here." 

Horsford  looked  at  me  steadily,  the  same  sus- 
picious expression  I  had  noted  the  evening  before 
coming  into  his  eyes. 

"  Ho !  "  he  said,  quite  involuntarily  it  seemed. 
"  I  s'pposed,  sir,  you  were  another  of  the  men  Mr. 
Milbrath  seems  to  'ave  workin'  on  the  mystery." 

"  Are  there  men  still  at  work  on  the  mystery  ? " 
I  asked,  with  an  appearance  of  interest. 

"  'Appen  there  are,  sir,"  hesitatingly. 

"Indeed!     I  certainly  hope  that  Mr.  Milbrath 


THE   PLACE   OF   SILENCE  51 

will  not  send  any  more  —  at  least  while  I  am  here. 
I  hardly  think  I  should  enjoy  being  spied  upon. 
Did  you  ? " 

Horsford's  burned  skin  assumed  a  redder  hue. 

"  I  canno'  say  I  did,  sir."  And  he  added  hastily: 
"  But  of  course  it  were  not  me  they  cared  about, 
sir." 

"  Of  course  not.  On  the  contrary,  I  should  sup- 
pose that  you  might  be  of  considerable  assistance  to 
them.  You  were  in  Winton  at  the  time  of  the  trag- 
edy, were  you  not  ?  " 

"  Not  'ere,  sir.    Beverly." 

"  Ah !  Not  so  far  away  but  that  you  heard  what 
the  townspeople  had  to  say  of  the  case.  Perhaps 
you  will  not  mind  telling  me  something  about  it. 
Once  I  was  a  newspaper  man,  and  I  still  like  a  good 
story.  Besides,  I  think  I  should  like  to  know  how 
things  are  supposed  to  have  happened  in  this  house 
in  which  I  am  to  spend  the  remainder  of  the 
summer." 

Horsford's  expression  implied  that  he  believed 
only  half  of  what  I  was  saying. 

"  I  do  no'  know  much  abou'  hit,  sir,  save  that  the 
old  gentleman  were  knocked  down  or  'it  on  the  'ead 
an'  were  dead  when  'e  were  found,  an'  that  young 
Mr.  Milbrath,  who  was  Is  newy,  as  'appen  you  know, 
sir,  was  said  to  'ave  done  it." 

"  Do  you  believe  that  he  did  it  ? "  I  asked 
quickly. 

Horsford  hesitated. 

"  I  do  no',  sir,  but  'e  seemed  to  be  the  only  one 
they  could  find.  Aye,  sir,  this  is  a  'aunted  place 


52    THE   SNAKE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

now  an'  I  would  no'  like  to  'ave  anyun  stay  'ere 
long." 

"  It  begins  to  look  as  if  I  should  have  something 
besides  the  fish  and  the  boating  to  interest  me !  The 
place  is  haunted,  you  say  ?  By  a  real  ghost  ?  " 

Horsford  did  not  appear  to  appreciate  my  levity. 

"  It  it  not  the  ghost  only,  sir,"  he  said  soberly. 
"  It  is  the  feelin'  wot  'angs  o'er  everything  up  'ere. 
'Appen  it  came  to  you  after  you  passed  the  stable, 
sir?" 

"  I  cannot  truthfully  say  that  it  did ;  but  then, 
I  'm  not  given  to  nerves.  Did  not  the  detectives 
you  spoke  of  stop  here  ?  " 

"  Not  over  night,  sir.  Never !  They  put  up  at 
the  Winton  'Ouse." 

I  took  the  keys  from  Horsford's  hand,  and  opened 
the  door  with  the  one  he  indicated. 

"  Welcome  to  Overlook,  Elmer  Bliss,"  I  said 
cheerfully  to  myself,  as  I  stepped  inside.  "  And 
may  good  luck  attend  your  efforts ! "  I  added 
mentally. 

Horsford,  none  too  willingly,  followed  me  and 
helped  me  throw  up  the  shades  and  the  windows 
and  open  the  blinds.  The  rooms  were  cheerfully 
and  handsomely  furnished,  and  with  the  sunlight 
flooding  them,  they  did  not  look  as  if  they  had  been 
closed  for  nearly  two  years  upon  an  unexplained 
tragedy. 

Everything  was  covered  with  dust,  of  course,  but 
Horsford  told  me  he  believed  everything  to  have 
been  left  as  it  stood  upon  the  day  of  the  murder. 
The  two  women  servants  had  abandoned  the  house 


THE   PLACE   OF   SILENCE  53 

upon  the  day  of  Mr.  Milbrath's  arrest,  and  the 
stablemen  and  gardeners,  who  had  their  own  quar- 
ters, had  taken  their  meals  at  the  cottage  until  their 
dismissal  by  the  executors  of  the  estate  some  time 
later.  Therefore,  from  the  week  following  Mr. 
Somhers'  death  until  this  morning,  Overlook  had 
been  a  deserted  house,  a  "  place  of  silence  "  indeed, 
except  for  the  occasional  visit  of  an  investigator  of 
crime. 

A  wide  hall  with  a  staircase  at  the  rear  ran 
through  the  house.  At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  was  a 
door  leading  into  a  small  entry  and  thence  to  the 
side  porch,  and  was  the  door  by  which  Mr.  Milbrath 
affirmed  that  he  entered  and  left  the  house  when  he 
returned  for  his  suitcase  on  the  day  of  the  tragedy. 
On  the  right  of  the  hall  were  a  dining  room  and 
kitchen,  with  a  billiard  room  leading  from  the 
dining  room  into  the  north  extension.  On  the  left 
were  two  parlors;  the  extension  room,  separated 
from  the  parlors  by  a  narrow  entry  which  likewise 
opened  onto  a  small  portico,  had  been  Mr.  Somhers' 
library,  and  was  the  room  where  the  housemaid, 
Maggie  Arms,  was  the  first  to  see  the  master  of 
Overlook  lying  dead. 

The  second  floor  contained  sleeping  rooms;  the 
third  floor  a  large  storeroom  in  which  were  ranged 
boxes  and  trunks  and  discarded  pieces  of  furniture, 
and  a  sleeping  room  which  had  been  occupied  by  the 
two  women  servants. 

Upon  the  threshold  of  the  library  Horsford 
hesitated. 

"  I  do  no'  like  this  place,  sir,"  he  said,  with  a 


54    THE   SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

visible  shudder.  "  I  would  to  God  you  would  no' 
think  of  remainin'  in  it.  It  is  a  place  of  mysteries, 
an'  you  would  be  far  more  comfortable  in  the 
village." 

I  laughed. 

"  Tut,  Horsf ord !  Such  nonsense  from  an  able- 
bodied  man  like  you!  A  beautiful  place  like  this 
should  not  be  permitted  to  go  to  ruin  in  disuse,  and 
I  mean  to  enjoy  myself  here  free  from  old-womanish 
fancies.  Come,  give  me  a  hand  with  this  window, 
will  you  ? " 

The  deep  red  appeared  again  beneath  the  burn  in 
Horsford's  face,  but  he  said  no  more  and  did  as  I 
asked. 

When  we  had  gone  through  the  house,  looking 
into  each  room  and  closet,  I  dismissed  Horsford. 

"  I  shall  be  obliged  if  Mrs.  Horsford  can  let  me 
have  dinner  with  you,"  I  said.  "  After  that  I  hope 
to  have  Gaspard  with  me  and  shall  trouble  you  only 
for  cream  and  eggs  and  the  fresh  things  from  the 
garden,  which,  doubtless,  you  can  supply." 

Horsford  nodded. 

"  Aye,  sir.  Good  day,  sir,"  he  said,  and  was  off, 
heartily  glad,  apparently,  to  get  away. 

I  watched  him  for  a  moment  going  at  a  quick 
pace  across  the  lawn,  and  then  I  looked  off  upon 
the  panorama  that  stretched  before  my  eyes  as  I 
stood  upon  the  portico. 

Ahead  lay  the  village  of  Winton,  a  row  of 
straight,  strong  trees  marking  the  line  of  the  main 
street  as  it  wandered  out  to  the  lighthouse  that  stood 
white  and  solitary  on  the  point.  To  one  side  lay 


THE   PLACE   OF   SILENCE  55 

the  bay  and  the  spires  and  glistening  roofs  of  Bev- 
erly. Beyond  the  lighthouse  the  bay  widened  into 
the  ocean,  and  I  could  see  the  surf  pounding  un- 
ceasingly upon  the  stony  shore  at  the  foot  of  the 
marshlands  beyond  the  Winton  station. 

Such  a  bit  of  scenery,  bright  with  the  sun  of  a 
glorious  day,  should  have  acted  like  champagne 
upon  my  spirits.  Instead,  a  sense  of  hopelessness 
swept  over  me  as  I  turned  back  to  the  house.  It 
was  the  first  feeling  of  discouragement  to  which  I 
had  yielded,  and  so  strong  was  the  remnant  of  su- 
perstition in  me  that  for  the  moment  I  could  but 
believe  that  it  was  a  forerunner  of  impending  dis- 
appointment. The  next  instant  I  shook  myself,  and 
resolutely  turned  to  the  library,  determined  to  begin 
my  work  with  a  cheerful  mind. 

I  paused  at  the  entrance  to  the  room  and  made  a 
careful  survey  of  it.  It  was  an  unusually  large 
apartment,  being  fully  twenty-five  feet  wide  by 
thirty  feet  long.  The  two  windows,  which  faced  the 
west,  were  about  eight  feet  apart,  and  between  them 
was  placed  a  roll-top  desk  in  oak.  A  swivel  chair 
with  arms  stood  before  it. 

On  the  south  wall  was  an  open  fireplace  with  a 
black  marble  mantel  above  it ;  and  near  by  stood  a 
leather  reading-chair  with  a  padded  head-roll. 
There  was  but  one  other  chair  in  the  room,  straight- 
backed,  rush-bottomed  and  of  Colonial  appearance 
—  an  heirloom,  probably. 

Everywhere  were  books  in  cases  built  into  the 
wall.  Every  inch  of  available  wall  space  was  taken, 
from  an  inch  above  the  floor  to  the  height  of  five 


56    THE    SNARE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

feet.  On  the  walls  above  hung  a  few  good  pictures, 
but  all  of  subjects  that  testified  to  Mr.  Somhers' 
erratic  taste.  Dante's  "  Inferno  "  was  one  of  them ; 
two  others  were  reproductions  of  Sir  Noel  Paton's 
"  Quarrel  of  Oberon  and  Titania  "  and  "  Reconcili- 
ation of  Oberon  and  Titania."  At  a  later  period, 
Milbrath  told  me  that  for  many  years  a  picture  of 
Mr.  Somhers'  only  child,  Roland,  who  had  died  at 
the  age  of  seven,  had  hung  between  the  windows 
above  the  desk,  but  long  ago  that  had  given  place  to 
the  picture  of  Nero  standing  upon  an  eminence  and 
watching  with  a  triumphant  and  demoniacal  smile 
the  burning  of  distant  Rome. 

The  couch  upon  which  Mr.  Somhers'  body  was 
found  stretched  across  the  southwest  corner  of  the 
room  before  bookcases.  Like  the  reading-chair  it 
was  upholstered  in  black  leather.  A  valuable  tiger- 
skin  rug  lay  before  the  fireplace,  and  in  the  centre 
of  the  room  under  the  chandelier  was  an  oblong 
table  with  piles  of  papers  and  magazines. 

This  table  was  the  first  object  upon  which  my 
gaze  rested  after  opening  up  the  room,  but  now  as 
I  glanced  at  it  I  perceived  something  which  surely 
had  not  been  there  at  that  time.  It  was  a  sheet  of 
foolscap  paper,  and  as  I  approached  it,  I  read  easily 
the  bold,  upright,  printed  letters : 

"  Fools  rush  in  where  angels  fear  to  tread, 
He  who  ventures  here  were  better  dead. 
Have  a  care  1 " 


CHAPTER   VII 

THE   UNSOCIABLE    ME.    ASMS 

F  TOOK  the  paper  in  my  hands  and  examined  it 
•*-  closely.  The  printing  had  been  done  with  a 
writing  fluid  and  very  recently,  for  the  ink,  which 
in  time  would  be  black,  was  still  blue.  It  had  been 
done  hastily,  too,  or  by  a  person  laboring  under  in- 
tense excitement,  for  the  lettering  was  irregular. 
The  paper  was  a  half  sheet  of  ordinary  lined  fools- 
cap, a  trifle  ragged  on  the  edge  which  had  been  cut. 

My  first  act  was  to  drop  to  the  floor,  careful  not 
to  obliterate  any  possible  footprints. 

The  rug  which  covered  the  greater  portion  of  the 
room  had  a  background  of  straw  color,  and  while 
dusty,  showed  little  tracking.  On  the  south  side  of 
the  room  it  reached  to  the  tiling  before  the  fireplace ; 
on  the  other  three  sides  there  was  a  border  three 
feet  wide,  perhaps,  between  it  and  the  bookcases  or 
the  door  and  windows,  of  a  light-colored  hardwood. 
From  the  door  to  the  nearer  window  the  prints  of 
two  pairs  of  shoes  crossing  and  recrossing  were  un- 
mistakably mine  and  Horsford's.  My  prints,  that 
tracked  towards  the  farther  window,  crossed  the 
room  diagonally  and  ran  directly  from  the  doorway 
to  the  table,  I  also  found.  But  before  the  farther 
window,  on  the  corresponding  side  of  the  table,  and, 
indeed,  at  intervals  throughout  the  southern  end  of 
the  room  from  east  to  west  the  dust  was  swept  aside 


in  wide  swaths.  Obviously  this  had  been  done  to 
cover  the  tracks  of  the  intruder,  and  it  showed  me 
that  I  had  a  farseeing  rascal  with  whom  to  deal. 

I  could  not  doubt  that  he  had  entered  by  the 
farther  window  —  which,  by  the  way,  was  the  very 
one  by  which  the  assassin  of  Mr.  Somhers  was  be- 
lieved to  have  left  —  had  put  the  warning  upon  the 
table,  and  had  retreated  by  the  same  route,  brushing 
vigorously  the  spots  where  he  had  trod.  From  the 
width  of  the  marks  it  was  evident  that  they  had 
been  made  with  a  small  brush  like  a  whisk-broom. 
But  why  did  my  mysterious  stranger  use  his  brush 
beyond  the  line  of  the  table  and  the  fireplace,  even 
to  the  southeast  corner  ?  Ah !  A  book  was  missing 
from  the  second  shelf  in  the  southeast  corner! 

In  vain  I  searched  for  a  footprint  that  the  brush 
had  overlooked.  Not  one  remained.  The  bookshelf, 
even,  gave  me  no  assistance,  except  to  show  that  the 
missing  volume  was  one  of  a  set  of  Byron's  poems. 
Now,  would  Horsford  take  away  a  volume  of 
Byron  ?  Improbable,  unless  he  were  a  cleverer  man 
than  I  gave  him  credit  for  being,  or  unless  he  were 
acting  under  the  instruction  of  a  deep  brain.  In- 
deed, before  I  had  fully  analyzed  the  situation  I 
had  reached  the  conclusion  that  if  Horsford  had 
entered  the  room  while  I  was  standing  upon  the 
portico  fancying  him  still  hurrying  fieldward,  he 
was  but  the  instrument  of  a  cleverer  man  than 
himself. 

The  door  leading  from  the  entry  to  the  tiny  por- 
tico held  back  reluctantly  when  I  tried  to  open  it, 
and  creaked  with  the  stiffness  of  unused  hinges 


THE    UNSOCIABLE   MR.   ARMS       59 

when  at  last  I  succeeded.  The  window  through 
which  my  warner  must  have  entered  was  but  a  step 
from  this  portico,  and  though  I  examined  the  ground 
and  grass  about  it  I  could  find  no  indication  that 
they  had  been  recently  trodden  upon,  a  curious  con- 
dition, as  the  window  sill  stood  a  full  four  feet 
above  the  ground,  and  the  intruder  must  have  come 
down  with  some  emphasis. 

With  an  uncomfortable  sense  of  being  worsted, 
I  returned  to  the  library  and  closed  and  locked  the 
windows  and  drew  the  shades.  Then  I  closed  and 
fastened  the  other  windows  which  I  had  so  recently 
opened  throughout  the  first  floor,  and  I  saw  that  all 
doors  were  locked  behind  me  as  I  left  the  house.  I 
would  see  that  screens  were  put  in  place  before  I 
left  the  windows  open  again.  A  locked  screen  does 
not  prevent  admission,  but  it  is  likely  to  bear  some 
trace  if  tampered  with. 

I  looked  at  my  watch  and  found  that  it  was  only 
nine  o'clock  and  there  was  yet  time  to  call  upon  Mr. 
Arms  before  the  noon  hour.  From  the  portico  of 
the  villa  I  could  see  the  white  house  with  its  green 
shutters,  which  Horsford  had  said  was  Mr.  Arms'. 
Near  the  house,  I  soon  found,  the  road  took  a  turn 
to  the  right  and  ran  on  and  into  the  main  street  of 
Beverly. 

The  house  looked  asleep  as  I  approached  it  half 
an  hour  later.  The  shutters  were  drawn  and  the 
front  and  side  doors  were  closed.  No  sound,  save 
the  clucking  of  hens,  disturbed  the  silence.  Then 
there  floated  out  upon  the  air  a  woman's  fresh 
young  voice :  "  Bonnie  sweet  Bessie,  the  maid  of 


60    THE   SNARE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

Dundee,"  she  sang  and  stopped,  for  my  knock  upon 
the  old-fashioned  brass  knocker  resounded  through 
the  house. 

Silence  prevailed  again,  and  again  I  applied  the 
knocker.  This  time  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  pink 
and  white  face  through  a  shutter  cautiously  turned 
in  a  window  close  by,  and  directly  the  door  was 
opened  slowly.  A  young  woman  stood  before  me  — 
the  one  whose  song  I  had  heard  and  whose  cheek  I 
had  seen  I  did  not  doubt;  but  there  was  a  curi- 
ous, startled  expression  in  her  eyes  that  I  could 
not  understand. 

"  I  should  like  to  speak  with  Mr.  Arms,"  I  said. 

"  He  has  gone  into  town,  sir,"  the  startled  ex- 
pression deepening  in  her  eyes. 

"  Will  he  return  soon  ?  " 

"  That,  sir,  I  cannot  say.  Sometimes  it  is  noon 
before  —  before  the  truck  is  sold." 

"  Then  I  will  sit  here  on  the  steps  for  a  while. 
He  may  come  while  I  wait.  I  have  walked  from 
Overlook  and  this  shade  is  pleasant." 

"  As  you  like,  sir.  If  you  would  prefer  to  come 
inside,  I  will  call  mother." 

I  stepped  in  through  a  narrow  hall,  from  which 
a  pair  of  steep  stairs  climbed  directly  to  the  second 
floor,  and  into  a  darkened  room,  the  door  of  which 
the  girl  threw  open  for  me,  and  which  proved  to  be 
a  typical  New  England  country  parlor.  Almost 
before  my  eyes  had  grown  accustomed  to  the  dim 
light  the  girl  was  back,  and  with  her  a  stout  and 
spirited  looking  elderly  woman  whom  she  said  was 
"  Ma." 


THE    UNSOCIABLE   ME.   AKMS       61 

"  It  is  my  son  you  would  wish  to  see,  sir  ?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Arms. 

"  Your  husband,  is  he  not  ?  "  I  responded.  "  Un- 
til recently  the  farmer  at  Overlook  ?  " 

Mrs.  Arms  laughed  heartily,  in  a  comfortable 
way  that  set  her  cap  bows  nodding. 

"My  'usband?  Ho,  no,  sir.  My  'usband  'as 
been  dead  these  five  and  twenty  year.  'T  is  my  son 
Jim  who  'ad  the  farm  at  Hoverlook." 

Here  was  another  surprise  for  me,  for  I  had 
pictured  Mr.  Arms  as  elderly  as  the  woman  before 
me  appeared  to  be. 

"  You  come  from  Hoverlook,  did  you  tell  Mag- 
gie ? "  asked  Mrs.  Arms. 

"  Yes,  I  am  the  new  tenant." 

"  Well,"  she  observed,  "  there  be  all  sorts  of  folk 
in  the  wu-rrld,  nor  it  would  no'  be  the  wu-rrld,  I  'm 
thinkin',  but  why  anyun  should  fancy  Hoverlook 
now  is  beyondt  me.  When  I  were  in  the  Duke  o' 
Castlecourt's  dairy  afore  I  were  married  I  'eard 
enough  about  ghosts,  I  did  indeed,  sir  —  for  the 
place  were  'aunted  —  to  last  me  all  my  life,  an' 
I  've  been  glad  to  keep  away  from  places  wi'  bad 
names  since  then.  I  were  glad,  indeed,  when  Jim 
got  away  from  Hoverlook.  An'  I  'm  thinkin'  ye  '11 
be  glad  to  go  afore  a  great  time,  sir.  'Ave  ye  ne'er 
'eard  tha'  the  restless  speerets  o'  the  dead  return  t' 
'aunt  the  places  where  they  died  ? " 

"  Not  that,  but  I  have  heard  it  said  that  the  man 
who  murders  cannot  resist  the  temptation  to  return 
to  the  scene  of  his  crime." 

A  short  gasp  startled  my  half-facetious  answer, 


62    THE   SNARE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

and  I  turned  quickly  in  the  direction  of  the  girl. 
She  sat  with  her  large  black  eyes  wide  upon  me  and 
the  color  coming  and  going  in  her  face  in  waves. 

"  Maggie,  go  hout  of  the  room,"  commanded  Mrs. 
Arms,  as  though  the  girl  were  a  child.  "  She  's 
that  narvous  since  the  oP  man  was  killed  that  she 
hacts  's  if  she  did  it  'erself,  she  does,  indeed,  sir," 
Mrs.  Arms  explained,  turning  to  me  with  a  trace 
of  impatience  in  her  voice. 

Maggie  left  the  room  without  a  word,  but  her 
face  was  no  longer  pale,  and  I  felt  constrained  to 
remark : 

"  I  fear  I  am  to  blame  for  having  lingered 
over  so  gruesome  a  subject  as  Mr.  Somhers'  death. 
Naturally  it  affected  your  family  very  closely." 

"  Well,  as  to  that,  I  s'ppose  it  did,"  Mrs.  Arms 
answered  reflectively.  "  But  lor' !  't  were  a  good 
thing  fur  us  all  round,  though  ye  must  no'  mistake 
that  I  were  glad  it  'appened;  far  from  that.  'E 
were  a  fine  old  man,  were  Mr.  Somhers,  sir,  but  'e 
'eld  a  tight  rein  an'  Jim  must  caper  lively  to  'is  bid." 

"  And  your  daughter.  She  was  employed  in  the 
house,  was  she  not  ?  " 

Mrs.  Arms  nodded. 

"  Aye,  sir.  'T  were  her  as  saw  the  old  man  first, 
an'  she  's  never  been  'er  old  sel'  sin'."  She  looked 
at  me  sharply.  "  Is  it  true,  sir,  as  my  newy  Joe 
'Orsford  said  to  Maggie  this  mornin'  that  you  are 
a  detective  ?  " 

"  I  am  the  new  tenant  of  Overlook,"  I  answered. 
"  The  boy  who  drove  me  up  last  night  told  me  that 
I  should  be  mistaken  for  a  detective." 


THE    UNSOCIABLE   ME.   ARMS       63 

Mrs.  Arms'  eyes  twinkled. 

"  Then  Joeie  were  wrong  again.  Not  as  I  cared 
if  ye  were  one  or  not,  for  we  'ad  nothing  to  do 
with  the  old  master's  death,  though  ye  'd  think  as 
Maggie  'ad  from  the  way  she  gets  the  ague  when 
ye  speak  o'  murder.  She  never  were  like  any  other 
gaerl  I  ever  knew  —  sort  o'  notional,  she  is,  an'  full 
o'  dreams  an'  fancies.  I  s'ppose  ye  came  from  a 
city?" 

"  Erom  New  York." 

"  N'  York.  I  were  there  once  when  we  come  to 
America,  Jamie  an'  Maggie  an'  me.  I  thought  ye 

werna  a  country  chap Hark !  Wot  were  that  ? 

I  do  b'lieve  t'  were  my  Jamie  comin'  back." 

She  raised  a  shade  and  peered  through  the 
closed  blinds. 

"  Aye ;  that 's  'im  —  a  'andsome  lad,  now,  is  na 
'im,  my  Jim  ?  "  She  laughed.  "  Not  as  'e  's  so 
much  nor  a  lad  no  more,  'ither." 

I  followed  the  direction  of  the  old  woman's  gaze, 
and  caught  a  glimpse  between  the  trees  of  a  gray 
horse  and  a  brown  one  wending  their  way  down  the 
road  before  an  open  wagon  bearing  a  man  of  un- 
certain age.  He  was  a  surly-faced,  dark-browed 
fellow  I  could  see,  even  at  that  distance.  To  the 
mother's  eyes,  however,  he  was  still  her  "  'andsome 
lad ! "  I  wondered  what  Maggie,  of  the  apprehensive 
eyes  and  apple  cheeks,  thought  about  this  brother. 
Did  she  know,  or  suspect,  the  truth  about  Mr.  Som- 
hers'  death  ?  Did  she,  perhaps,  believe  Jim  impli- 
cated, or  was  it  only,  as  the  mother  appeared  to 
believe,  the  shock  of  the  crime  that  made  it  impossi- 
ble for  her  to  listen  quietly  to  the  subject? 


64:    THE   SXAEE    OF  CIKCUMSTAXCE 

She  was  hurrying  out  to  the  road  at  the  moment, 
and  met  her  brother  at  the  entrance.  That  she 
spoke  to  him  of  my  arrival  I  could  not  doubt,  for, 
with  a  sharp  turn  of  his  head,  he  glanced  toward 
the  closed  shutters  behind  which  I  stood.  I  saw  his 
wide  shoulders  move  in  a  derisive  shrug;  then  he 
dismounted  and,  handing  the  reins  to  the  girl, 
walked  slowly  to  the  house. 

"  Now,  that  was  a  funny  thing  fur  Maggie  t' 
do,"  meditated  Mrs.  Arms  aloud,  and  she  echoed 
my  thoughts.  "  'T  is  no'  as  'f  she  were  fond  o' 
takin'  the  'orses,  as  now  an'  again  she  'as  to." 

And  she  added  in  her  odd  mixture  of  Cockney 
and  Lancashire  dialects,  as  she  regarded  me  with 
twinkling  eyes: 

"  'Appen  she  's  a-thinkin'  ye  're  such  a  fine  young 
man  Jim  'd  be  a-wantin'  to  tidy  hup  a  bit  afore  'e 
come  in  t'  ye." 

But  it  was  hardly  probable  that  such  was  the 
girl's  intention  in  meeting  her  brother,  for  he  did 
not  visit  the  pump  or  any  other  remote  spot  before 
he  appeared  before  us. 

"  Ye  wan'  t'  see  me  ? "  he  asked  abruptly,  look- 
ing at  me  with  unfriendly  eyes  beneath  a  pair  of 
sinister  brows.  "  Wot  is  it  ye  'd  'ave  o'  me,  sir  ?  " 

I  handed  to  him  Mr.  Milbrath's  note,  which 
Horsford  had  returned.  He  read  it  through  with- 
out a  change  of  expression,  and  gave  it  back  to  me. 

"  It  is  fur  my  cousin,  Joseph  'Orsford,"  he  said. 

"  So  I  discovered  upon  my  arrival  last  evening, 
but  as  you  were  so  long  a  part  of  Overlook  I 
have  taken  the  first  opportunity  to  make  your 
acquaintance." 


THE    UNSOCIABLE   MR.    ARMS       65 

This  remark  elicited  no  response  from  Arms,  and 
his  manner  implied  that  an  acquaintance  with  me 
was  neither  solicited  nor  desired.  I  perceived  that 
I  had  made  a  mistake  in  hurrying  the  matter, 
and  regretted  that  I  had  not  waited  until  later, 
then  to  approach  him  in  the  attitude  of  master 
toward  servant,  an  attitude  more  nearly  within  the 
limits  of  his  comprehension,  probably. 

I  stared  at  him  in  grim  silence,  determined  that 
he  should  respond  in  some  way  to  my  remark.  We 
stood  there  facing  each  other  with  suppressed  alert- 
ness. Mrs.  Arms  was  grave  and  anxious,  longing 
for  concession  on  the  part  of  her  son,  not  daring  to 
suggest  it,  and,  withal,  it  seemed  to  me,  somewhat 
puzzled  by  his  attitude. 

After  an  awkward  silence  he  spoke: 

"  When  I  said  good-by  to  Hoverlook  I  did  n't 
expect  to  'ave  to  'ave  anything  more  to  do  with  it," 
he  said  ungraciously. 

"  Which  means  that  you  would  prefer  to  have 
nothing  to  do  with  me  ? "  I  interrogated,  with  a 
smile.  "  In  that  case  I  will  bid  you  good  day, 
Mr.  Arms." 

The  man  threw  me  a  swift  glance,  half  suspicion, 
half  question.  It  seemed  as  if  with  it  he  also  half 
relented. 

"  Good  day,  sir,"  he  answered  civilly.  "  Perhaps 
hif  you  come  again  another  week,  when  work  is 
light,  I  '11  'ave  a  bit  o'  time  to  talk  with  you." 

Mrs.  Arms  followed  me  to  the  door. 

"  You  must  n't  mind  Jim,"  she  said  in  a  dis- 
tressed voice  which  harbored  a  puzzled  note,  "  I 

5  ' 


66    THE   SNARE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

don't  see  what 's  the  matter,  sir.  It  his  not  like 
this  that  'e  his  usually.  Come  again,  sir.  Do 
come.  'E  '11  be  all  right  another  time,  I  '11  make 
sure.  Next  week  the  gooseberry  wine  '11  be  good. 
Come  and  try  a  bit,  will  you,  sir  ?  " 

I  reassured  her  with  a  promise,  and,  looking  back 
at  the  turn  in  the  road  where  the  land  lay  higher,  I 
saw  that  she  still  watched  me. 

A  little  farther  on  I  paused  in  the  shade  of  some 
trees.  A  breeze  touched  the  land  at  that  point,  and 
I  threw  myself  upon  the  ground,  which  was  still 
cool.  The  Arms  cottage  was  hidden  from  my  view, 
but  I  could  see  the  stable  with  its  open  door  before 
which  Arms  was  lazily  unhitching.  As  I  watched 
him,  pondering  on  the  meaning  of  his  manner 
towards  me,  I  saw  Maggie  come  from  the  direction 
of  the  house.  In  her  hand  was  a  large  straw  hat, 
such  as  men  wear  who  work  in  the  field.  She 
paused  for  an  instant,  as  if  in  conversation  with  her 
brother,  and  then  moved  on,  but  slowly  as  if  un- 
willingly, toward  a  small  but  dense  grove  beyond 
the  place. 

She  was  lost  to  my  view  for,  perhaps,  five  minutes, 
and  when  she  returned  there  was  a  man  with  her. 
I  was  too  far  away  to  get  much  idea  of  his 
appearance,  but  his  carriage  gave  me  the  impression 
that  he  was  a  man  near  middle  life,  and  one  who 
would  be  well-dressed.  He  wore  the  hat  which 
Maggie  had  taken  out,  and  it  completely  hid  his 
face  from  me. 


CHAPTER   VHI 

ALMOST    A    HERO 

noon  meal  was  again  served,  in  deference 
-*-  to  me,  I  suppose,  in  the  front  room;  but  this 
time  the  square  table  was  brought  in  from  the 
kitchen  and  I  dined  with  the  family. 

Mrs.  Horsford  was  still  silent,  and  her  eyelids 
were  red  and  swollen  as  if  from  recent  weeping. 
Her  husband  had  charge  of  the  child,  and  I  won- 
dered whether  it  were  his  habit  to  care  for  it  always 
when  in  the  house.  He  looked  grim,  and  barely 
spoke  during  the  meal.  To  my  remark  that  I  had 
called  at  the  Arms  cottage,  he  merely  looked  at  me 
and  uttered  a  conclusive  "  Aye." 

When  we  had  finished,  I  followed  him  to  the 
grain  house,  and  by  dint  of  many  questions 
succeeded  in  learning  the  names  and  accredited 
characteristics  of  the  postmaster,  the  banker,  the 
physician,  and  the  chief  merchant  of  the  town, 
whose  assistance  I  thought  it  possible  I  might  have 
occasion  to  seek.  I  also  arranged  with  Horsford 
for  the  use  of  two  horses  and  a  man  to  care  for 
them,  and  then  proceeded  to  make  myself  acquainted 
with  the  grounds  and  environs  of  Overlook. 

I  found  that  starting  from  the  sunken  gardens 
to  the  northwest  of  the  house  a  gravel  path  bordered 
the  edge  of  the  bluff  and  joined  the  twisting  drive 
to  the  main  entrance  gates  on  the  one  hand,  and 


68    THE   SNAKE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

on  the  other  followed  in  and  out  among  the  trees 
that  grew  on  the  bank  that  sloped  at  this  point  to 
the  water's  edge. 

Down  there,  on  a  pier  that  ran  well  out  into  the 
water,  I  found  a  boathouse,  and  one  of  the  keys  in 
the  bunch  that  Horsford  had  given  me  fitted  the 
lock  in  the  door. 

There  were  three  rowboats  inside,  two  of  them 
dry  and  sprung  from  disuse,  but  one  still  gay  with 
green  and  red  paint  and  apparently  seaworthy. 
On  a  wide  shelf  that  outlined  three  sides  of  the 
room  were  fishing  tackle,  hooks,  pails,  et  cetera; 
and  near  the  middle  of  each  side  of  the  house  was 
a  window  in  the  shape  of  a  large  porthole. 

In  my  progress  of  inspection  I  had  reached  one 
of  these  windows,  and  as  I  glanced  out  idly  my 
gaze  was  transfixed  by  an  unexpected  picture  before 
me. 

A  hundred  feet,  or  thereabouts,  beyond  the 
Overlook  pier  stretched  another  pier,  likewise  bear- 
ing a  boathouse ;  and  between  the  two  lay  a  bit  of 
sandy  beach  on  which  at  that  moment  the  rising 
tide  was  sending  foam-capped  waves. 

Along  this  beach  ran  a  young  girl,  clothed  in 
white,  with  a  white  sunbonnet,  and  her  dress  was 
gathered  to  her  knees  above  the  whitest,  roundest, 
daintiest  ankles  and  calves  that  were  ever,  perhaps, 
bestowed  upon  mortal.  Now  and  then  she  paused 
to  dig  a  small  pink  toe  into  the  sands,  or  to  dare  an 
incoming  wave  to  break  upon  the  polished  marble 
of  her  ankle,  screaming  with  lusty  glee  when  it  did 
so,  and  running  on  again  out  of  reach  of  the  next 


ALMOST   A   HEKO  69 

encroacher.  Once  she  turned  a  little,  and  I  caught 
a  glimpse  of  a  pink  and  white  face  framed  in  the 
floating  gold  of  her  hair  as  the  breeze  caught  the 
loosened  tresses  and  blew  them  out 

I  thought  of  the  attractive  girl  on  the  train,  and 
at  once  began  to  trace  a  resemblance  between  her 
and  the  wisp  of  humanity  on  the  sands.  Both  had 
hair  like  captured  sunbeams,  and  upon  both  had 
Nature  bestowed  her  rare  kiss  of  perfect  coloring. 
What  more  likely  than  that  they  were  sisters?  I 
hoped  they  were,  for  already  I  had  registered  a 
vow  that  if  she  were  stopping  for  long  in  Winton 
I  would  make  the  acquaintance  of  my  High  Priestess 
of  Travel,  and  to  have  this  pretty  little  one  a  mem- 
ber of  the  same  family  would  simplify  matters  for 
me  tremendously.  I  had  only  to  ascertain  to  whom 
the  neighboring  pier  belonged,  secure  a  card  from 
some  responsible  source  —  from  Mr.  McClure,  per- 
haps, when  I  came  to  know  him  —  and  lo!  I 
should  have  the  privilege  of  looking  again,  and  per- 
haps often,  into  a  fair  face,  the  expression  of  which 
continued  to  haunt  my  waking  thoughts. 

I  watched  the  child  as  she  ran  lightly  up  the 
steps  that  led  to  the  pier  beyond  me  and  disappeared 
within  the  boathouse.  Then  I  turned  away  from 
my  porthole  with  a  feeling  that  she  alone  was  worth 
the  trouble  of  an  introduction.  To  a  lonely  bache- 
lor, destined  to  at  least  a  month  of  solitary  work  in 
a  doubtless  uncongenial  territory,  the  thought  of 
feminine  graces  and  a  soft  feminine  voice,  if  em- 
bodied in  only  a  child,  is  capable  of  inducing  a 
thrill  of  pleasure. 


70    THE   SNARE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

Her  sunny  hair  and  piquant  profile  reminded  me 
of  my  cousin  Nan;  and  if  ever  a  maid  of  twelve 
possessed  the  gift  of  keeping  the  lives  of  those 
about  her  free  from  ennui,  it  was  Nan.  I  laughed 
aloud  with  a  recollection  of  some  of  the  pranks  of 
that  pleasing  miscreant,  and  the  door,  which  at 
first  withstood  my  insistent  pressure,  yielded  at 
that  instant  with  a  suddenness  that  sent  the  sound 
of  my  amusement  ringing  in  the  outside  air. 

The  first  object  that  caught  my  attention  as  I 
stepped  without,  was  the  girl  with  the  white  sun- 
bonnet.  Doubtless  she  had  gone  through  the  other 
boathouse,  for  there  she  sat  on  the  end  of  the  pier, 
dangling  her  feet  blissfully  above  the  frolicsome 
waters,  and  again  inviting  the  waves  that  broke  in 
a  foam  against  the  piles  beneath  the  pier  to  wet 
her  if  they  dared. 

One  glimpse  I  caught  of  wildly  waving  pink 
toes  and  tapering  ankles  as  their  possessor  tried 
vainly  to  cover  them,  after  a  startled  glance  toward 
me.  Then  —  I  suppose  she  tripped  on  her  skirt  as 
she  tried  to  spring  up  —  there  was  a  sharp  cry  and 
the  girl  fell  backward  into  the  water. 

In  less  time  than  it  takes  to  write  it  my  coat  and 
waistcoat  were  off  and  I  was  swimming  madly 
against  the  waves  in  the  direction  of  a  white  speck 
that  bobbed  upon  the  water.  My  progress  was  slow, 
for  my  clothing  was  heavy  and  my  muscles  not  so 
firm  as  they  would  be  later  in  the  season,  so  I 
shouted  to  the  girl  to  grasp  a  pile  and  keep  her  head 
above  water.  There  was  no  answer,  and  my  heart 
grew  heavy  with  sudden  fear.  What  if  I  should 


ALMOST   A   HERO  71 

be  too  late  ?  I  thanked  God  that  the  tide  was 
coming  in.  Then  I  caught  the  bit  of  white.  It 
was  the  sunbonnet,  floating  out  by  its  loosened 
strings,  and  before  it,  in  the  shadow  of  the  pier, 
was  the  girl,  clinging  to  a  pile,  as  I  had  instructed. 

"  Put  your  arm  around  me,"  I  cried,  as  I  threw 
my  own  left  one  about  her  slender  waist. 

"  No,"  she  said. 

"  Do  as  I  tell  you,"  I  commanded.  "  Do  you 
want  to  drown  ?  " 

There  was  a  hesitation  almost  too  brief  to  be 
noticeable;  then  a  tiny  hand  grasped  my  arm. 

"  I  can  help  myself  a  little  bit,  perhaps,"  a  voice 
said,  and  had  I  been  able  I  should  have  turned  to 
see  whether  it  were  laughter  or  tears  that  brought 
that  curious  little  break  into  the  bell-like  tones. 

"  Don't  try,"  I  said  briefly.    "  Simply  hold  fast." 

A  dozen  strokes  brought  us  to  the  sands,  and, 
lifting  the  child  I  carried  her  up  the  beach  to  a 
spot  high  and  dry  and  beyond  the  possible  reach  of 
the  water. 

"  There !  "  I  exclaimed,  as  I  sat  her  upon  the 
sands.  "  Now,  if  you  will  tell  me  where  to  find 
your  home  I  will  see  that  you  get  there  safely." 

"  Thanks !  But  I  'm  not  going  home  just  now. 
I  'm  —  yes,  I  am  going  right  back  into  the  water 
and  have  a  nice  swim.  I  'm  all  wet  anyhow." 

"  What !  "  I  ejaculated.  "  Do  you  mean  to  tell 
me  that  you  jumped  into  the  water  purposely  ? " 

"  Not  exactly  that,"  the  girl  answered  with 
averted  face,  as  she  began  to  scoop  out  the  sand 
before  her.  "  I  did  n't  jump  in.  Any  one,  almost, 


72      THE   SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

would  know  that  I  am  not  dressed  for  the  water; 
but  I  have  a  bathing  suit  in  the  boathouse  and  I 
can  swim." 

"  Then,  in  Heaven's  name,  why  did  n't  you  say 
so?" 

"  Perhaps  I  should  have  said  so  if  you  had  not 
been  so  —  dictatorial ;  or  maybe  I  should  have  set 
out  ahead  of  you,  but  I  happened  to  strike  my 
forehead  and  —  it  hurt." 

Her  face  was  still  averted.  I  could  see  only 
the  sweep  of  the  delicate  features  as  I  looked  down 
upon  them.  But  then  I  observed  two  things ;  that 
there  was  more  ivory  than  coral  in  the  beautiful 
cheeks  now,  and  that  an  ugly  lump  had  raised  just 
above  the  right  eye. 

"  Why,  you  poor  child !  "  I  cried,  and  was  down 
upon  the  sands  before  her  in  a  twinkling.  "  You 
must  let  me  take  you  home  directly.  I  insist  upon 
it.  Your  mother  will  find  something  to  reduce  that 
swelling  and  save  you  a  headache.  Come,  which 
way  shall  we  go  ?  " 

"  My  mother  is  n't  in  Winton,"  said  the  girl  with 
the  same  note  in  her  voice  that  I  had  detected  when 
we  were  in  the  water,  and  in  that  instant  I  became 
conscious  that  she  was  older  than  I  had  thought  — 
probably  sixteen  —  and  she  was  laughing  at  me. 

"  It  would,  perhaps,  be  well  if  she  were,"  I  re- 
marked, uncomfortable  in  the  consciousness  that  I 
had  been  treating  a  girl  on  the  edge  of  womanhood 
like  a  child  not  yet  in  her  teens,  but  resolved  to 
carry  on  the  farce.  "  Headstrong  children  need 
to  be  looked  after  as  carefully  as  young  animals." 


ALMOST    A   HERO  Y3 

The  girl  made  no  response.  For  fully  two  min- 
utes we  sat  side  by  side  upon  the  sands  and  not  a 
word  passed  between  us.  Presently,  without  look- 
ing in  my  direction,  she  began  to  shake  out  her 
wet  locks. 

"  May  I  take  you  home  ? "  I  said  then,  and,  you 
may  observe,  I  asked  it. 

"  No,  thank  you,*'  she  answered  sweetly. 

"  Then  will  you  go  now  that  I  may  see  that  you 
start  safely  ? " 

She  made  a  move  as  if  to  rise,  but  with  a  sudden 
glance  at  her  clinging  skirts  sank  back  again. 

"  No,"  she  said. 

A  light  shone  in  upon  my  brain. 

"  You  mean  to  sit  here  until  I  go  ? "  I  inquired, 
pleased  with  my  extraordinary  perception. 

She  nodded,  and  the  dimples  twinkled  at  the 
corners  of  her  mouth.  Her  eyelids  fluttered  coax- 
ingly,  but  were  not  permitted  to  lift. 

"  Oh !  Very  well.  Then,  good-by.  I  hope  you 
will  feel  no  bad  effects  from  your  plunge,  and  the 
bruise." 

"  Thank  you ;  good-by,"  she  answered,  with  un- 
flattering promptness.  "  I  hope  you  understand  that 
I  am  properly  grateful  to  you  for  —  saving  my 
life." 

I  laughed,  and  I  knew  that  she  wanted  to. 

"  I  understand,  of  course,"  I  made  answer. 
"  Please  think  of  me  as  a  hero !  " 

I  went  to  the  boathouse  and  spent  an  uncon- 
scionably long  time  there  in  the  hope  that  the  girl 
would  move  away  and  I  could  learn  at  least  the 


74      THE   SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

direction  that  she  took.  But  when  I  locked  the 
house  she  still  sat  where  I  had  left  her,  and  I  was 
presently  forced  to  permit  the  trees  on  the  rising 
bank  to  shut  her  from  my  view  as  I  returned  to 
Horsford's  cottage  for  a  change  of  clothing. 

The  cottage  was  as  silent  as  a  churchyard  when 
I  entered  it,  and  there  were  no  sounds  of  life  within 
it  when  I  left  it  half  an  hour  later.  But  as  I 
reached  the  path  around  the  sunken  gardens  I 
looked  back  and  saw  Mrs.  Horsford,  with  the  child 
toddling  at  her  side,  crossing  the  strip  of  green  that 
lay  between  the  cottage  and  the  vegetable  garden, 
where,  doubtless,  she  had  been.  My  first  thought 
was  to  return  to  the  cottage  and  question  her  about 
the  things  uppermost  in  my  mind.  Caution  sug- 
gested a  slower  but  probably  wiser  course,  and  I 
turned  to  the  grottos,  which  I  had  come  to  examine. 

There  were  two  of  them  in  the  sunken  gardens, 
and  from  a  distance  they  looked  like  enchanted 
spots,  fit  for  fairy  habitation.  The  entrance  in  both 
cases  was  hung  with  trailing  woodbine,  but  there 
the  suggestion  of  romance  ended,  for  one  was  but 
the  hiding  place  for  the  pipes  that  had  once  brought 
water  to  the  fountain,  while  the  other  was  but  two 
or  three  feet  deep  —  a  mere  archway  for  the  brick 
wall  that  banked  the  knoll  above. 

I  seated  myself  on  a  rustic  bench  that  stood  near 
the  larger  grotto  and  presently  my  mind  became 
absorbed  by  the  case  that  I  had  taken  in  hand.  The 
sudden  pausing  of  a  squirrel  in  his  journey  along 
the  knoll  above  me  roused  me  at  last  to  a  conscious- 
ness of  my  surroundings.  I  arose  and  stretched 


ALMOST  A   HEEO  75 

myself  and  moved  from  the  gardens.  The  sun  was 
well  behind  the  trees  by  this  time,  and  the  air  had 
taken  on  that  solemn  stillness  which  descends  upon 
the  earth  toward  sunset  in  summer. 

I  felt  glad  that  Gaspard  was  to  arrive  within 
another  hour,  and  with  the  recollection  I  walked 
briskly  toward  the  stable  to  ascertain  whether  Hors- 
ford  had  got  the  horse  that  he  had  promised  to  let 
me  have  at  once. 

As  I  passed  the  house  it  occurred  to  me  that  I 
had  not  yet  dispatched  my  first  report  to  Mr.  Sum- 
merfield,  due  on  the  morrow.  I  let  myself  in 
through  the  creaking  door  in  the  south  extension, 
and  went  to  my  bag,  which  sat  upon  the  floor  in 
one  of  the  parlors,  for  paper,  which  I  took  to  the 
tiny  portico,  and,  using  my  notebook  for  a  rest 
upon  my  knees,  I  sketched  a  brief  statement  of  my 
movements  during  the  past  two  days,  so  far  as 
they  were  likely  to  be  of  interest  to  Mr.  Philander 
Summerfield. 

When  I  hurried  back  to  the  bag  to  return  the 
superfluous  paper,  I  found  on  the  pile  of  things  I 
had  turned  over  to  get  at  the  paper  —  directly  on 
top  and  so  conspicuous  that  I  could  not  overlook  it, 
a  half  sheet  of  foolscap  paper  on  which  was  type- 
written in  capitals, 

ONE  WARNING  FOR  A  MAN, 

TWO  FOR  A  FOOL, 

THREE  FOR  A  CORPSE. 

WILL  YOU  AWAIT  THE  THIRD,  OR  WILL 

YOU  LEAVE  OVERLOOK? 


76      THE   SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

With  a  flash  of  grim  pleasure  I  felt  for  my  pistol 
and  loaded  it.  Then  I  slipped  down  to  the  floor 
and  did  my  best  to  discover  footprints.  But  a 
spirit,  indeed,  might  as  well  have  left  the  message 
so  far  as  any  trace  of  him  was  visible  in  that  half 
light.  I  tiptoed  around,  careful  to  make  no  more 
mark  than  necessary  in  the  dust  upon  the  floor,  in 
my  endeavor  to  find  a  lamp  that  could  be  used.  But 
the  oil  in  each  one  had  long  since  evaporated.  The 
matches  that  I  lighted  gave  me  little  assistance,  and 
after  ten  minutes  a  small  pile  of  charred  bits  of 
wood  was  all  that  I  had  to  show  for  my  endeavor. 

When  I  loaded  my  pistol  I  was  resolved  upon 
searching  the  house,  but  after  trying  the  outside 
doors  and  finding  them  all  locked,  save  the  one 
through  which  I  had  entered,  and  the  cellar  door 
not  only  locked  but  bolted  from  the  inside,  I  aban- 
doned the  thought  of  going  farther,  and  returned 
instead  to  the  front  of  the  house,  baffled  again  and 
exasperated  with  myself  for  being  baffled. 

I  drew  from  my  pocket  the  warning  of  the  morn- 
ing. As  I  expected,  the  uneven  edge  of  the 
more  recent  half  sheet  fitted  exactly  the  torn  edge 
of  the  earlier  page,  so  I  could  harbor  no  doubt  that 
they  had  been  left  by  the  same  person.  Had  he, 
then,  also  been  the  author  of  the  one  left  in  New 
York?  Evidently  he  had  regarded  this  as  the  sec- 
ond. I  had  the  first  one  in  my  pocket.  That,  too, 
was  typewritten,  but  a  glance  sufficed  to  show  me 
that  the  two  were  not  done  on  the  same  machine. 

Was  it  possible  that  two  persons  were  interesting 
themselves  to  keep  me  away  from  Overlook?  Was 


ALMOST    A   HERO  77 

it  that  the  key  to  the  mystery  still  lay  here  in  a 
form  so  tangible  as  to  be  picked  up  by  one  so  inex- 
perienced in  criminal  detection  as  I,  yet  overlooked 
for  two  years  by  professional  sleuths?  How  about 
Barney  Rafferts,  whose  connection  with  the  first 
communication  I  had  first  suspected  and  then  dis- 
missed from  my  mind  as  unlikely?  Had  he,  at 
one  time,  been  on  this  case  ? 

Oh,  to  have  been  here  at  the  time  of  the  crime ! 
To  have  met  then  the  monkey-faced  Arms,  his  dot- 
ing mother  and  his  sister  with  the  apprehensive 
eyes!  And  Horsford?  What  part,  if  any,  had  he 
played  in  the  tragedy,  or  was  he  playing  now  ? 
Was  he,  indeed,  the  agent  of  his  cousin  (or  of  some 
one  else  of  whom  I  had  yet  to  learn),  a  man  who 
forced  his  wife  to  silence  and  who  climbed  through 
open  second-floor  windows  to  lay  a  tantalizing  threat 
within  twenty  feet  of  my  unsuspecting  self? 

But  granting  that  Barney  arranged  the  first  mes- 
sage and  Jim  Arms  was  the  author  of  the  other 
two,  why  should  Arms  make  an  effort  to  prevent 
me  from  investigating  on  the  spot  a  crime  that  came 
so  close  to  his  own  life  —  unless,  indeed,  he  were 
the  one  I  sought?  But  it  had  been  shown  at  the 
coroner's  inquest  and  at  both  of  Harrison  Milbrath's 
trials,  that  during  the  afternoon  of  October  12th, 
James  Arms,  farmer,  was  in  Providence,  and  did 
not  reach  home  until  after  seven  o'clock  in  the  even- 
ing, before  which  time  the  lifeless  body  of  Peter 
Somhers  had  been  discovered. 


CHAPTER   IX 

THE    GIKL   IN    WHITE 

/GASPARD  proved  to  be  all  that  I  had  hoped 
^-^"  of  him,  and  within  forty-eight  hours  after  his 
arrival  he  had  made  me  as  comfortable  in  that 
"  place  of  silence "  as  I  had  been  anywhere  in 
years.  He  was  a  stout-hearted  little  Frenchman,  a 
veteran  of  the  war  of  '70,  without  fear  of  any 
agency,  human,  diabolical,  or,  I  fear,  divine,  and 
he  laughed  in  the  faces  of  the  tradespeople  who 
gravely  informed  him  of  the  terrors  that  he  was 
likely  to  encounter  in  his  new  abode. 

With  eager  interest  he  listened  to  all  that  I  could 
tell  him  of  the  crime,  and  he  lamented  audibly  that 
he  could  not  have  been  upon  the  spot  at  the  time. 
Gaspard  should  have  been  a  gendarme. 

I  gave  him  the  freedom  of  the  house,  and  more 
than  once  found  him  sleeping  peacefully  upon  the 
couch  where  the  body  of  Mr.  Somhers  had  been 
found.  Gaspard  declared  it  to  be  the  most  com- 
fortable couch  in  the  house;  and  I  doubt  not  that 
he  had  tried  them  all,  for  he  worked  like  a  galley 
slave  and  slept  like  a  saint ! 

Within  two  days  I  had  gone  through,  behind, 
around  or  under  every  visible  article  in  the  house 
from  garret  to  cellar,  and  from  private  papers  in 
Mr.  Somhers'  desk  to  a  pair  of  blue  jeans  in  an  up- 
stairs closet.  Everything  that  Gaspard  and  I  found 


THE    GIKL   IN   WHITE  79 

to  be  not  stationary  was  shaken  from  its  dust-laden 
quiet  of  two  years  and  examined  minutely. 

Notwithstanding  this  care,  at  the  conclusion  of 
the  investigation  I  had  to  admit  that  it  had  been 
fruitless  in  helping  me  to  find  a  motive  for  the  crime 
or  a  clue  to  the  criminal. 

I  felt  instinctively  that  the  Arms  family  was 
somehow  involved.  But  how  ?  That  either  Maggie 
or  her  mother  was  directly  responsible  I  could  not 
believe.  And  as  for  Jim :  even  if  it  could  be  proved 
that  he  was  at  Overlook  at  the  hour  of  the  crime, 
would  I  gain  much?  Not  unless  I  could  find  a 
motive  for  the  deed.  There  was  the  legacy,  to  be 
sure,  but  did  Arms  know  of  that?  Granting  that 
he  did  know  of  it,  was  five  thousand  dollars  enough, 
even  to  his  ignorant  mind,  to  pay  for  the  risk  ?  In 
case  the  legacy  or  his  position  became  imperiled  it 
might  be.  Proof  that  such  a  danger  threatened 
would  certainly  warrant  ai^  hypothesis  of  his  guilt. 

I  made  this  note  in  my  diary: 

If  James  Arms,  late  farmer  of  Overlook,  is  the  man 
I  seek,  my  deductions  made  from  the  report  of  the 
inquest  and  trials  were  wrong.  No  man  of  his  muscu- 
lar build  would  have  dragged  Mr.  Somhers'  body  to  the 
couch  where  it  was  found;  nor  do  I  believe  that  he 
would  have  taken  the  care  that  seemed  to  have  been 
taken  to  cover  the  manner  of  the  crime  and  protect  the 
couch.  But  he  is  a  man  who  will  bear  study,  and  I 
mean  to  accept  the  invitation  of  his  mother  to  "  come 
again,"  and  before  long  too.  That  his  manner  was 
not  that  of  impulse  that  other  day  I  am  confident,  for 
twice  since  my  first  words  with  him  I  have  met  him  on 


80      THE   SNAKE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

the  road  to  town  and  he  has  answered  my  greeting  only 
with  a  gruff :  "  Aye,  aye !  Halong  with  ye,  Betsey !  "  or 
"  Be  hon  with  ye,  Sal ! "  as  he  touched  his  mares 
with  his  whip. 

What  can  be  the  secret  of  such  a  man's  popularity 
with,  or  shall  I  say  power  over,  a  man  like  Mr. 
Somhers  ? 

I  have  begun  a  practice  of  visiting  the  post  office 
each  day,  for  it  is  there  that  the  village  idlers,  whom 
I  have  come  to  call  "the  faculty,"  congregate,  and 
the  gossip  of  the  place  is  dished  up  fresh  and  hot.  I 
think  that  there  I  shall  be  able  to  get  information,  but 
I  must  be  content  to  seek  cautiously,  gaining  by  scraps, 
for  the  villagers  will  close  up  like  their  own  native 
clams  once  they  divine  that  they  are  being  questioned. 
Moreover,  I  am  still  regarded  with  curiosity  and  some 
doubt,  and  must  move  conservatively  until  I  am  a 
familiar  character. 

In  the  meantime  I  am  coaching  Gaspard.  I  have 
told  him  enough  of  my  mission  here  to  allay  his  curi- 
osity, and  after  assuring  myself  of  his  loyalty  and  dis- 
cretion, have  instructed  him  to  see  as  much  of  the 
Horsfords  as  he  can  and  learn  their  version  of  the 
Somhers  case,  their  feeling  toward  their  cousin,  Jim 
Arms,  and  his  family,  and  if  possible,  the  meaning  of 
the  curious  sounds  I  heard  in  the  cottage  the  other 
night. 

He  has  found  the  commission  an  uphill  task,  for 
Horsford  is  no  less  the  sphinx  with  him  than  with  me. 
Moreover,  he  has  given  Gaspard  clearly  to  understand 
that  he  will  not  have  him  coming  about  Mrs.  Horsford 
with  his  French  blandishments.  To  me  this  is  sig- 
nificant of  one  of  two  facts.  Either  the  heavy,  silent 
Horsford  is  capable  of  keen  jealousy  or,  as  I  have  con- 
jectured, he  is  afraid  of  his  wife's  volubility.  I  say  her 


THE    GIRL   IN   WHITE  81 

"  volubility,"  for  the  impression  that  she  made  on  me 
that  first  evening  still  lingers,  notwithstanding  that 
whenever  I  have  since  seen  her,  the  subdued  tone  of  the 
following  morning  had  been  conspicuous. 

Horsford  apparently  sees  through  the  excuses  I  make 
to  get  a  word  with  his  wife,  and  regards  my  approach 
with  eyes  that  invariably  narrow. 

Yesterday,  quite  incidentally,  I  learned  where  Mr. 
McClure  lives.  The  Queen  Anne  cottage  in  magnifi- 
cent grounds,  that  I  have  admired  from  a  distance,  is 
his,  it  seems.  The  entrance  to  the  place  is  only  just 
across  the  road  from  the  east  side  of  the  triangle  of 
woods  —  almost  within  shouting  distance.  I  dare  say 
it  was  the  man  himself  whom  I  saw  yesterday  meander- 
ing around  among  the  trees  on  the  lawn,  and  feeding 
nuts  to  the  squirrels.  I  was  tempted  to  introduce 
myself  at  that  time,  but  upon  reflection  decided  to 
await  Kilbourne's  arrival,  which  is  set  for  Saturday 
evening. 

It  stands  to  reason  that  this  McClure  knew  Mr. 
Somhers,  and  in  all  probability  he  knew  him  well,  as 
men  of  Mr.  Somhers'  type  are  not  common  enough 
about  here,  I  fancy,  to  be  ignored  by  him.  ...  I  be- 
lieve that  I  'd  better  make  Mr.  McClure's  acquaintance 
at  once,  and  not  wait  for  the  company  of  that  uncertain 
Kilbourne.  So  here  goes! 

Whereupon,  with  a  resolve  —  not  unmixed,  I  '11 
admit,  with  a  thought  of  another  introduction  —  I 
snapped  the  rubber  band  over  the  pasteboard  covers 
of  my  pocket  diary,  and,  rising  from  the  grass  where 
I  had  been  writing  in  the  shade  of  a  great  elm  tree,  I 
sauntered  eastward. 

At  the  entrance  gates,  however,  the  man  I  had 

a 


82      THE   SNAKE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

seen  feeding  squirrels  drove  through  his  own  gates 
and  jogged  down  the  road  away  from  me. 

My  plan  thus  frustrated,  I  turned  toward  the 
boathouse. 

"  If  I  may  not  call  upon  desirable  old  gentlemen," 
I  soliloquized,  "  it  is  possible  that  circumstances 
will  be  kinder  in  the  matter  of  a  water  trip.  It 
looks  as  if  there  might  be  a  breeze  stirring  out  there, 
which  is  more  than  we  can  be  thankful  for  here." 

Then  I  recalled  the  girl  with  the  white  sunbonnet. 
I  had  made  two  efforts  to  learn  her  identity.  I 
had  asked  Horsford.  He  looked  puzzled  and  shook 
his  head  thoughtfully,  finally  answering  that  he 
knew  of  no  such  person.  Gaspard  was  equally  ig- 
norant, but  he  assured  me  volubly  that  he  would 
proceed  at  once  to  learn  for  me  the  fair  one's  name. 
I  left  him,  therefore,  to  gather  facts  in  his  own  way ; 
for,  being  French,  I  knew  him  to  be  politic,  and, 
being  forty,  I  believed  him  to  be  discreet. 

As  yet  he  had  imparted  no  news,  and,  as  I  strolled 
beachward,  I  was  considering  how  I  could  hasten 
his  investigations,  when  I  was  startled  by  an  un- 
expected warble,  clear  and  sweet,  in  the  branches 
above  me,  or  so  it  seemed. 

What  bird  had  notes  like  that!  I  craned  my 
neck  in  the  hope  of  catching  a  glimpse  of  the  little 
fellow.  But  I  saw  only  the  cocked  bright  eye  of  a 
robin  peering  down  into  mine,  and  there  was  a  long 
pause  before  the  warble  was  repeated. 

Then  it  came  from  a  clump  of  trees  ahead  of  me. 
Forward  I  hastened,  only  to  find  that  the  bird  was 
still  in  advance  of  me.  I  pushed  on,  my  head 


THE    GIEL   IN   WHITE  83 

thrown  back,  my  eyes  fixed  on  the  interlacing  boughs, 
my  mind  too  absorbed  in  things  overhead  to  think 
of  the  pitfalls  into  which  my  feet  might  stray. 

Suddenly  I  was  brought  to  earth,  literally,  for 
my  ankle  turned  on  a  treacherous  small  stone  in 
the  path  and  I  was  thrown  upon  my  knees  in  an  atti- 
tude of  supplication  before  a  sapling  maple. 

Instantly  a  quickly  suppressed  feminine  laugb 
greeted  my  surprised  ears,  followed  by  the  swish  of 
dress  skirts  and  the  swift  patter  of  feet. 

I  was  upright  again  in  a  trice,  and  running  head- 
long in  the  direction  of  the  footsteps,  my  mind  again 
on  the  girl  with  the  white  sunbonnet.  But  I  caught 
not  even  a  glimpse  of  feminine  robes ;  and,  at  the 
turn  in  the  path  where  the  walk  from  the  lawn  de- 
scended, I  lost  all  sound  of  everything  save  the 
crunching  of  gravel  beneath  my  own  feet. 

I  was  within  fifty  feet  of  the  Overlook  boathouse 
by  that  time,  and  after  a  moment's  indecision  I 
turned  toward  it.  A  glance  at  the  pier  which  had 
been  the  scene  of  my  heroic  rescue  showed  me  that 
the  boathouse  upon  it  was  closed,  and  that  there 
were  no  signs  of  life  about. 

As  I  loosened  the  green  and  red  boat  from  its 
moorings,  and  dropped  lazily  into  it,  the  echo  of  a 
laugh,  musical,  tantalizing  and  feminine  floated 
down  to  me  from  the  embankment.  I  started  con- 
sciously and  looked  sharply  before  me ;  but  the  only 
living  things  that  I  could  see  were  a  chipmunk  on  a 
worm-eaten  log,  and  a  gull's  wings  outlined  against 
the  blue  of  the  sky. 

Half  an  hour  later,  while  I  lay  flat  upon  my  back 


84      THE   SNAKE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

in  the  drifting  boat  and  watched  the  fleecy  clouds 
from  the  edge  of  my  hat  brim,  I  was  awakened 
from  a  daydream  by  the  sound  of  a  bird's  warble 
rising,  it  seemed,  from  the  water  near  me.  Cau- 
tiously I  sat  up  and  looked  sharply  about  me,  a  new 
idea  as  to  the  "  bird  "  illuminating  my  brain. 

I  had  drifted  down  toward  the  lighthouse,  and 
no  craft  was  near  me  nor  any  bird  in  the  air  above 
me.  But  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant  and  hugging 
the  shore  of  Winton  neck,  a  small  rowboat  moved 
slowly.  It  was  brilliantly  white;  and  against  the 
blue  cushions  in  the  high  back  of  the  stern,  a  soli- 
tary figure  sat  indolently  —  a  girl  in  white,  with 
golden  hair  shining  in  the  sunlight  in  defiance  of  a 
white  sunbonnet  which  had  fallen  to  her  shoulders ! 

In  a  flash,  I  comprehended  the  situation.  There, 
in  one,  were  my  Undine,  my  warbler,  and  my  dam- 
sel of  the  tantalizing  laugh !  She  should  not  again 
escape.  Moreover,  in  punishment  for  her  amuse- 
ment, she  should  tell  me  her  name,  or  where  she 
lived,  or  agree  to  permit  me  to  call  upon  her  when, 
by  other  means,  I  had  learned  both. 

In  the  flush  of  this  resolve  I  seized  the  oars  and 
in  a  twinkling  had  headed  my  boat  toward  hers  and 
was  pulling  vigorously.  She  still  lolled  against  the 
cushions  of  her  boat  when,  after  a  few  strong  strokes, 
I  glanced  over  my  shoulder  toward  her.  But  the 
next  time  that  I  looked  she  had  taken  her  place  be- 
tween the  locks  and  was  lifting  the  dripping  oars 
from  the  water.  Then  a  low,  rippling  laugh  came 
across  on  the  breeze  to  me  and,  at  the  same  instant, 
the  little  white  boat  shot  away  from  my  approach. 


THE    GIRL    IN   WHITE  85 

She  pulled  with  a  long,  sure  stroke  that  permitted 
no  waste  of  energy,  and  carried  her  craft  over  the 
water  at  a  speed  that  I  was  far  from  equaling.  In 
my  ajnazement  at  the  sight  I  paused  to  stare  for  a 
moment,  then  I  bent  to  my  oars  with  redoubled 
vigor. 

Notwithstanding  my  efforts,  however,  the  tiny 
white  craft  kept  at  a  tantalizing  distance  from  me; 
and  presently  I  was  chagrined  to  see  that  only  one 
chance  to  win  remained  for  me.  That  one  was  to 
overtake  her  while  a  mooring  was  being  effected. 
But  with  an  aim  that  was  unerring,  as  she  neared 
the  pier  —  the  Overlook  pier  at  that !  —  a  rope 
flew  out  from  Undine's  hands  and  its  noose  fell 
deftly  over  one  of  the  upright  posts  at  the  end. 
And,  in  a  moment,  that  girl  stood  upon  the  pier, 
flushed  and  exultant. 

I  had  dropped  my  oars,  and,  not  more  than  a 
hundred  feet  from  her,  had  whirled  about  upon  the 
boat  seat  to  face  her.  As  she  stood  there  for  the 
fraction  of  a  second  I  knew  for  a  surety  that  she 
was  my  beauty  of  the  train.  Then  the  small,  trim 
figure  turned,  waved  a  small  hand  in  flaunting  tri- 
umph, and  with  as  much  composure  as  if  it  were 
bound  for  church,  walked  toward  and  disappeared 
among  the  trees  on  the  embankment. 

Within  a  minute's  time  I,  too,  had  effected  a  land- 
ing, and  was  again  in  hot  pursuit.  Up  the  bank  I 
scrambled,  regardless  of  everything  but  ultimate 
victory ;  as  I  reached  the  forking  of  the  path,  there, 
not  more  than  a  hundred  feet  before  me,  was  a 
slender,  white-clad  figure  and  a  white  sunbonnet! 


86      THE   SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

What  was  more,  they  were  moving  with  an  ad- 
mirable lack  of  vulgar  haste. 

Triumphantly  I  gazed,  for  was  not  the  object  of 
my  pursuit  all  but  accomplished  ?  Little  did  Undine 
suspect  my  nearness!  Or  could  it  be  possible  that 
she  heard  my  approach  and  purposely  loitered  that 
I  might  overtake  her?  My  speed  slackened  with 
the  thought.  If  that  were  the  case  the  piquancy 
of  the  situation  was  lost.  I  paused.  Then  a  pic- 
ture of  the  scene  just  enacted  flashed  across  my 
mind.  Those  naming  cheeks  and  sparkling  eyes  did 
not  indicate  that  effort  had  been  made  merely  to 
give  the  loser  an  easy  conquest  in  the  end ;  nor  did 
that  proudly  tilted  head  signify  that  he  who  would 
might  walk  up  and  take  —  even  an  acquaintance. 

No;  assuredly,  Undine  did  not  know  of  my  ap- 
proach. When  I  reached  her,  then,  how  was  I  to 
explain  my  conduct  in  following  her  beyond  the 
pier  where  she  had  waved  a  distinct,  if  victorious, 
farewell  ? 

With  eager  haste  I  looked  about  for  something 
that  would  answer  for  a  passport  to  her  side;  and 
Fate  seemed  to  smile  upon  me,  for  there,  shining  in 
a  shaft  of  sunlight,  was  a  gilt  hairpin.  It  was  too 
absurdly  trifling  to  notice,  had  I  not  been  hard 
pressed ;  but  in  the  urgency  of  the  moment  I  picked 
it  up  thankfully  and  hurried  forward  with  it. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon !  "  I  exclaimed  in  my  most 
dulcet  —  if  breathless  —  tones,  as  I  gained  the  side 
of  the  bonnet,  "  I  think  you  dropped  this." 

"  Sure,  sor,  an'  I  think  ye  're  mistaken,"  was  the 
unexpected  answer,  as  the  bonnet  turned  toward 


THE    GIRL    IN   WHITE  87 

me  and  revealed  beneath,  not  the  delicate  face  of 
my  distinctly  American  Undine,  but  the  wide  fea- 
tures and  broad  smile  of  a  dark-haired  daughter  of 
Erin !  "  But  I  b'lave  I  know  where  it  b'longs,  an' 
I  'm  willin'  to  take  charge  of  it,"  she  added,  and 
there  was  no  mistaking  her  amusement. 

The  blood  tingled  the  roots  of  my  hair  and  effer- 
vesced down  my  spine,  and  I  was  conscious  of  won- 
dering whether  it  betrayed  me  through  the  tan  on 
my  face.  Sheepishly  I  put  the  insignificant  scrap 
of  wire  upon  the  girl's  outstretched  palm,  and  with 
an  embarrassment  that  I  felt  was  expressed  in  every 
feature  and  muscle,  I  raised  my  hat  and  turned 
away. 

A  trap  had  been  set  for  me,  and  I  had  fallen  into 
it  with  a  promptness  that  must  have  been  wonder- 
fully gratifying  to  the  owner  of  the  white  sunbonnet ; 
for  I  did  not  doubt  that  Undine  had  afforded  herself 
some  additional  amusement  and  triumph  by  making 
that  girl  —  doubtless  her  maid — 'her  temporary 
representative,  trusting  to  a  man's  notorious  lack  of 
observation  as  to  details  of  feminine  attire  to  carry 
through  her  plan  and  make  her  escape. 

I  stole  a  glance  backward  and  confirmed  my  sur- 
mise. No  one  but  a  man  with  one  idea  would  have 
walked  into  a  snare  so  obvious,  for  sunbonnet  and 
height  were  the  only  features  that  the  two  girls  had 
in  common.  Not  only  was  this  girl  stouter  than 
Undine,  but  her  gown  was  in  stripes  of  black  and 
white,  and  she  wore  a  large  apron! 

All  that  day  the  little  white  boat  rocked  demurely 
by  the  side  of  mine  on  the  rising  waters  at  the 


88      THE   SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

Overlook  pier;  but  the  following  morning,  when  I 
went  down  for  an  early  row,  it  was  gone,  and  look- 
ing to  my  neighbor's  pier  I  beheld  it  moored  there, 
pleasantly  suggestive  of  its  fair  occupant  of  the 
previous  day. 


CHAPTER   X 

AN    UNEXPECTED   ENCOUNTER 

SATURDAY  being  the  day  that  the  usually  in- 
dolent male  Wintonites  assisted  their  women 
folk  to  kill  and  dress  chickens,  bring  in  vegetables, 
mow  the  lawn,  and  otherwise  make  ready  for  the 
approaching  day  of  rest,  I  found  most  of  the  chairs 
deserted  upon  the  post-office  piazza.  I  remained, 
therefore,  only  long  enough  to  read  a  short  letter 
from  Harrison  Milbrath,  in  which  he  inclosed  a 
card  to  Mr.  McClure,  whose  acquaintance,  he  sug- 
gested, I  might  find  both  helpful  and  agreeable. 

I  had  ridden  to  town,  and  as  I  cantered  back,  the 
charm  of  the  day  fell  over  me  like  a  spell.  Every 
breath  of  the  clear  air  sent  the  blood  tingling  through 
my  veins  and  encouraged  my  desire  to  play  truant 
for  a  few  hours.  At  the  turn  where  the  road  from 
Clintonville  comes  into  the  main  street,  I  threw 
off  the  last  remnant  of  responsibility,  and  galloped 
gladly  into  a  section  of  country  where  hitherto  I  had 
not  traveled. 

I  had  gone  for  perhaps  a  mile  inland  when,  of  a 
sudden,  a  clear,  sweet  warble  fell  upon  my  ears. 
On  the  instant  I  drew  rein  and  listened.  It  came 
again  presently,  and  was  followed  immediately  by 
an  amused  laugh,  unrestrained  and  melodious. 
Craning  my  neck  in  the  direction  of  the  sound,  I 


90      THE   SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

beheld  the  prettiest  sight  that  had  been  vouchsafed 
me  in  many  a  day. 

On  a  stone  wall  that  outlined  a  pasture  sat  my 
Undine,  in  white,  as  before,  the  little  white  sun- 
bonnet  for  once  upon  her  head  but  tipping  away 
from  her  face.  That  the  warble  was  intended  for  a 
horse  became  apparent,  for  a  soft  whinny  answered 
each  sound  and  a  fine  black  animal,  side-saddled, 
raised  her  head  for  an  instant  from  the  billows  of 
clover  in  which  it  was  buried,  and  took  a  few  en- 
couraging steps  toward  the  dainty  figure  upon  the 
wall. 

The  girl  flicked  the  tips  of  her  small  feet  with 
her  riding  whip,  and,  apparently,  forgot  the  horse. 
A  retrospective  smile  played  about  her  mouth  and 
as  she  warbled  again  and  again  and  laughed  aloud, 
I  had  an  uncomfortable  presentiment  that  I  was  the 
subject  of  her  mirth.  The  horse  lifted  one  ear 
questioningly  and  whinnied. 

"  I  don't  want  you,  Mercedes,"  the  girl  cried  mer- 
rily. "  I  was  illustrating  how  easy  it  is  to  delude 
big,  wise  men.  You  would  n't  be  so  easily  fooled, 
now  would  you  ?  And  as  for  Delia,  why,  you  would 
know  her  from  me  at  quite  the  distance  of  a  half 
mile,  to  be  sure  you  would,  Mercedes,  dear !  " 

If  the  blood  had  tingled  through  my  veins  when 
the  unexpected  "  Delia  "  beamed  upon  me  from  the 
rim  of  the  white  sunbonnet,  it  burned  its  way 
through  them  now. 

Undine  undoubtedly  believed  herself  to  be  far 
from  any  human  being,  and  her  laughter  and  words 
were  as  free  from  malice  as  the  song  of  a  bird ;  but 


AN  UNEXPECTED  ENCOUNTER  91 

had  she  studied  a  way  to  punish  me  she  could  not 
have  devised  a  more  conclusive  method.  I  was  al- 
ternately incensed  and  mortified,  and  (let  me  ex- 
press my  opinion),  mortification  is  the  surest  way 
to  humble  and  floor  a  man.  I  was  of  a  mind  to  ride 
forward  and  surprise  the  small  pink  ears  of  Miss 
Undine,  when  discretion  warned  me  that  I  was  only 
an  eavesdropper.  My  horse,  disapproving  of  inde- 
cision, settled  the  matter  for  me  by  stamping  vigor- 
ously; and,  quick  as  a  flash,  the  girl  turned  a 
startled  glance  of  recognition  upon  me. 

Of  all  things  that  could  have  happened,  to  be 
caught  sitting  there  upon  that  stationary  beast,  my 
eyes  riveted  and  my  face  blazing,  was  assuredly  the 
least  desirable.  I  lifted  my  cap,  and,  jerking  up 
my  conscienceless  horse,  rode  forward.  With  a 
sharp  trill  that  brought  "  Mercedes  "  instantly  to 
her  side,  the  girl  scrambled  to  her  feet  upon  the 
wall,  flung  herself  into  the  saddle,  and,  before  I 
reached  the  spot  where  she  had  been,  had  galloped 
through  the  pasture  and  was  out  upon  the  road  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  away  from  me. 

She  had  deliberately  and  literally  fled  before  my 
approach.  Very  well.  What  did  I  care?  That 
I  did  care,  however,  the  angry  thumping  of  my 
heart  betrayed.  I  dropped  to  the  ground  and 
stretched  at  full  length  on  a  shaded  bit  of  grassy 
roadside  at  the  foot  of  the  wall.  It  is  absurd  to 
have  both  a  miserable  mind  and  an  uncomfortable 
body  on  such  a  day.  My  hand,  reaching  out, 
touched  something  that  was  neither  grass  nor  stone. 
It  proved,  upon  examination,  to  be  a  locket  of  gold, 


92      THE   SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

and  heart-shaped.  A  chain  of  tiny  links  was  at- 
tached to  it,  and  so  weak  was  the  fastening,  I  un- 
derstood how  the  trinket  had  succeeded  in  escaping 
from  its  owner's  neck. 

Some  engraved  letters  on  its  face  formed  one 
short  word :  "  Dolly."  So  that  was  Undine's  real 
name?  My  fingers  must  have  touched  a  secret 
spring,  for  the  top  flew  open  and  I  found  myself 
staring  at  two  pictures  set  within.  One  was  Dolly, 
laughing,  mischievous,  sans  the  bonnet.  The  other 
was  the  face  of  a  lad  of  perhaps  eighteen,  with 
merry  eyes  and  a  laughing  mouth.  But  the  curves 
of  the  nostrils  and  the  moulding  of  the  fine  chin  and 
lips  revealed  a  sensitiveness  of  makeup  which,  at 
best,  is  but  a  doubtful  blessing  to  a  man.  For  an 
instant  I  thought  that  I  knew  the  face,  but  a  close 
inspection  failed  to  bring  me  any  recollection  of 
where  I  had  seen  it. 

Slipping  the  locket  and  chain  into  my  coat  pocket 
I  remounted  my  horse.  Would  I,  after  all,  hurry 
them  back  to  their  owner?  Why  not  keep  them 
until  opportunity  afforded  a  correct  introduction 
to  the  high-headed  young  woman  ? 

I  set  forth  with  a  final  decision  to  let  Fate  work 
out  the  solution  to  suit  herself.  If  the  paths  that 
Miss  Dolly  Undine  and  I  saw  fit  to  travel  again 
crossed  that  morning,  very  likely  I  would  restore 
the  locket ;  otherwise 

I  did  not  turn  at  the  crossroads,  as  I  thought  that 
probably  she  had.  Resolutely  I  turned  my  horse's 
head  toward  Beverly.  Half  a  mile  farther  on  Fate 
applauded  my  action  and  bestowed  her  reward ;  for 


"  I  had  dismounted  and  held  before  her  the  locket.' 
Page  93. 


AN  UNEXPECTED  ENCOUNTER  93 

there  on  a  boulder  under  a  tree  by  the  side  of  the 
road,  sat  Dolly,  feeding  sugar  to  her  horse ! 

That  time  I  did  not  draw  rein  until  I  was  at  the 
side  of  the  girl.  Then,  before  she  had  time  to  do 
more  than  spring  to  her  feet  and  express  amazement 
and  defiance  in  the  sudden  straightening  of  her  lithe 
young  figure  and  the  proud  tilt  of  her  head,  I  had 
dismounted  and  held  before  her  the  locket,  dangling 
from  its  chain. 

"  Oh !  "  she  cried,  and  one  hand  flew  to  her  throat, 

"  It  was  gone And  you  found  it !  You  were 

trying "  She  abandoned  her  sentence,  and  her 

face  dimpled  with  a  most  engaging  smile.  "  It  was 
very  good  of  you,"  she  murmured.  "  Thank  you 
so  much." 

"  It  is  a  pleasure  to  me,"  I  answered  with  com- 
mendable dignity.  Then  I  spoilt  the  effect  at  once. 
"  We  seem  destined  to  meet,"  I  added. 

Miss  Dolly  grew  quite  an  inch  taller  before  my 
admiring  eyes,  and  she  glared  at  me  haughtily. 
Then  she  bowed  stiffly. 

"  Good  morning,  sir,"  she  said,  and  turned  to 
her  horse,  which  had  succeeded  in  browsing  its  way 
several  feet  ahead. 

So  this  was  the  way  that  I  was  to  be  left,  was  it  2 
A  "  thank  you  "  and  not  another  kind  word. 

"  Wait  till  I  get  myself  '  a  damp,  moist  and  un- 
pleasant body '  again,  pulling  you  out  of  the  briny 
deep,"  I  volunteered. 

The  girl  wavered,  glanced  doubtfully  over  her 
shoulder  at  me,  and  then  laughed  softly. 

"  I  don't  mean  to  be  hateful,"  she  said,  turning 


94      THE   SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

back,  and  her  manner  became  suddenly  adorable. 
"  I  don't  feel  so  a  bit,  you  know." 

Both  eyes  sparkled  as  she  lifted  them  for  a  frac- 
tion of  a  second  to  mine,  and  a  smile  curled  the 
corners  of  her  scarlet  lips. 

"  It  was  a  kindness,  too,  for  you  to  help  me  ashore 
that  time,"  she  conceded. 

"  Of  course  it  was,"  I  retorted,  and  I  added 
wickedly:  "  Particularly  to  your  parents,  who  pro- 
bably do  not  realize  how  many  risks  you  take." 

The  girl  laughed,  but  she  also  flushed. 

"  I  understand,  of  course,"  I  continued,  "  that 
you  fancy  that  you  can  swim,  but  I  have  had  no 
proof  of  it,  and  I  still  insist  that  it  is  not  safe  for 
children  to  go  too  near  the  big  pond  alone !  " 

"  You  are  a  highly  impertinent  man !  " 

"  And,  with  your  permission,  you  are  an  ex- 
ceedingly charming,  if  uncomplimentary  young  — 
child." 

The  blood  swept  in  a  flame  over  the  girl's  features, 
and  she  swished  her  riding  whip  sharply  across  the 
heads  of  clover  at  her  feet.  Then,  the  flash  of  temper 
spent,  she  laughed  aloud  and  came  toward  me  with 
outstretched  hand. 

"  Let 's  '  shake  and  make  up,'  "  she  suggested. 
"  I  know  that  you  are  only  teasing  me,  and  I  won't 
stay  angry.  But,  really,  you  are  shockingly  ill- 
mannered  to — to  speak  to  me  in  that  way.  Why, 
you  know  nothing  about  me,  not  the  first  thing,  if 
you  really  believe  me  to  be  a  child,  whereas  I  have 
the  advantage  of  being  quite  well  acquainted  with 
you  —  Mr.  Elmer  Bliss !  " 


AN  UNEXPECTED  ENCOUNTER  95 

I  stared  in  amazement.  How  came  she  to  know 
my  name  ?  Second  thought  showed  me  that  the  fact 
was  not  remarkable.  Doubtless  by  now  everyone 
in  Winton  knew  the  name  of  the  new  tenant  of 
Overlook ;  and  she  had  first  seen  me  at  the  Overlook 
pier  (unless  she  remembered  having  seen  me  on 
the  train  —  which  I  doubted),  later  in  an  Overlook 
rowboat,  and  at  present  with  a  horse  owned  by  the 
farmer  of  Overlook.  What  more  natural  than  her 
conclusions  ? 

I  raised  my  hat  and  bowed  low  before  her. 

"  Even  so,  M'lle  Dupin,"  I  said.  "  Your  humble 
servant,  Elmer  Bliss,  late  of  New  York,  living  at 
Overlook,  very  preoccupied  —  on  the  way  to  the 
beach  —  very " 

"  Heroic,"  supplemented  the  girl  with  an  amused 
laugh.  "  But  my  wide  knowledge  of  you  does  not 
end  even  with  the  facts  that  you  have  enumerated, 
while  you  know  so  little  of  me  that  even  my  name 
is  a  mystery." 

"  It  is  Dolly,"  I  responded  promptly. 

"  Ah !  Here  is  a  man  with  the  wisdom  of  Solo- 
mon !  "  mocked  the  girl,  still  amused,  as  she  slipped 
the  telltale  locket  into  her  pocket.  "  Has  it  not 
occurred  to  you  that  the  name  on  the  locket  may  be 
that  of  a  friend?  Possibly,  though,  Mr.  Bliss  is 
not  aware  that  it  is  a  custom  with  girls  to  exchange 
pieces  of  jewelry  for  a  time." 

"  I  fancy  they  take  out  the  photographs  in  the 
lockets  they  loan,"  I  answered  at  random,  and  was 
wholly  unprepared  for  the  effect  that  my  words  had 
upon  the  girl. 


96      THE   SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

Her  eyes  dilated  and  her  hand  flew  to  the  hidden 
trinket. 

"  So !  "  she  exclaimed  in  tones  that  expressed  both 
injury  and  contempt,  "  Mr.  Bliss  has  been  playing 
the  part  of  Paul  Pry,  has  he !  " 

And  before  I  had  time  to  make  myself  heard,  she 
had  again  called  Mercedes  to  her,  had  sprung  from 
the  boulder  to  her  saddle,  and  was  enveloped  in  a 
cloud  of  dust  as  she  galloped  madly  down  the  road. 

Well,  girls  are  incomprehensible  creatures.  Men 
who  assert  that  they  are  not  have  more  conceit  than 
knowledge.  This  girl  was  no  exception. 

I  was  sufficiently  puzzled  to  be  certain  of  only  one 
thing:  that  I  was  guiltless  of  any  intention  to  dis- 
tress her,  and  I  should  make  no  further  efforts  to 
become  acquainted  with  Miss  Dolly  Undine! 

With  which  resolve  I  mounted  my  horse  and  rode 
slowly  back  to  Overlook. 


CHAPTER   XI 

THE    SECRET    OF    THE    HOBSFOEDS 

11/rURRAY  KILBOURNE,  as  good  as  his  word, 
-L*-L  arrived  on  Saturday  evening,  but  not  in  his 
most  amiable  frame  of  mind.  It  was  dusk  when  he 
reached  Overlook.  He  insisted,  nevertheless,  on 
prowling  around  the  grounds,  uttering  now  and 
then  a  delighted  growl  as  his  keen  eyes  discovered 
some  especially  tempting  nook  or  vista,  and  impetu- 
ously declared  his  intention  of  bargaining  for  the 
place  the  moment  his  forthcoming  novel  proved  as 
great  a  money  earner  as  his  publishers  predicted. 
He  was  less  enthusiastic  about  the  house;  but  his 
criticisms  were  directed  chiefly  against  the  modern 
furniture,  which  he  considered  out  of  harmony  with 
the  building's  colonial  architecture. 

He  listened  with  a  slightly  wearied  expression  to 
an  account  of  my  experiences  in  connection  with  my 
new  work,  which  I  was  determined  he  should  hear 
although  I  knew  almost  at  once  that  his  absurd  prej- 
udice against  Mr.  Milbrath  had  not  been  effaced, 
and  that  I  could  expect  little,  if  any,  encouragement 
or  help  from  him.  Indeed,  I  doubt  whether  he  even 
heard  all  that  I  told  him,  but  his  imagination  was 
touched  by  the  warnings. 

"  Jove,  Bliss !  "  he  cried  with  a  flash  of  interest, 
"  There  is  spice  there !  No  footprints  in  the  dust 
either  time  ? " 

7 


98      THE   SNAKE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

"  In  the  forenoon  they  were  brushed  out.  In  the 
evening  I  could  distinguish  nothing,  but  on  the  fol- 
lowing morning  I  found  tracks  everywhere." 

"  Everywhere  ? " 

"  In  both  parlors,  in  the  library,  in  the  hall,  and 
even  part  way  up  the  stairs  I  found  them.  There 
was  no  attempt  to  obliterate  them." 

"  Did  you  get  a  copy  ?  " 

In  answer  I  handed  Kilbourne  a  paper  upon 
which  I  had  outlined  the  imprint  of  a  medium-size, 
square-toed  boot. 

Kilbourne  studied  the  sketch  for  a  moment. 

"  And  the  owner  of  the  boots  ?  Have  you  seen 
him?" 

"  Not  with  square-toed  boots  on.  The  feet  are 
the  first  thing  that  I  have  looked  at  in  a  person  for 
the  past  two  days." 

"  When  you  see  him  you  will  scarcely  know  him 
by  that  sign,  I  think." 

"  I  have  thought  of  that.  It  is  obvious  that  on  the 
first  occasion  he  wished  to  cover  up  all  means  of 
identification,  and  in  the  second  instance  he  pur- 
posed to  be  seen.  The  inference  is  plain.  Never- 
theless, I  can't  help  looking  at  toes." 

Kilbourne  laughed. 

"  Well,  you  are  not  likely  to  do  any  harm  by 
that  form  of  investigation,"  he  said  a  little  cyni- 
cally. "  Where  did  your  mystery  exit  the  second 
time  ? " 

"  Via  the  entry  door,  most  likely.  It  was  un- 
locked when  I  returned  with  Gaspard  that  even- 
ing." 


THE   SECRET   OF  THE   HORSFORDS     99 

"  Ah !  Which  showed  that  he  was  in  the  house 
when  you  left  it !  " 

"  I  fear  so,"  I  answered  meekly. 

"  Jove !  Your  man  within  earshot  and  you  per- 
mit him  to  slip  through  your  fingers !  Oh,  you  '11 
be  a  famous  detective  yet,  lad !  " 

I  made  no  response. 

"  Where  is  young  Milbrath  ? "  Kilbourne  asked 
after  a  moment. 

"  Still  at  Manhattan  Beach,  I  suppose.  He  sails 
on  Wednesday,  you  remember.  Surely  you  are  not 
trying  to  connect  him  with  this  warning  tom- 
foolery ? " 

"  He  might  not  be  so  bad  a  subject  for  a  bit  of 
theorizing." 

"  Oh,  come  now !  Why,  I  had  a  note  from  him 
yesterday,  mailed  in  New  York  at  the  very  hour 
that  I  found  the  last  warning." 

"  Is  an  assistant  an  impossibility  ?  " 

"  How  unlike  your  usual  logic,"  I  said  with  some 
heat,  "  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  Mr.  Milbrath 
has  offered  me  an  inducement  to  track  down  his 
uncle's  slayer,  and  despite  his  willingness  to  have 
me  come  to  Overlook  you  think  he  is  the  man  I  am 
after." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  drawled  Kilbourne,  delighted 
to  get  me  excited,  "  if  he  were  the  criminal  he  would 
scarcely  object  to  your  presence  here,  I  should  sup- 
pose, for  are  you  likely  to  learn  anything  about  him 
that  has  not  already  been  paraded  by  the  courts? 
Granting,  however,  his  innocence,  there  may  or  may 
not  be  a  reason,  which  has  occurred  to  him  since  he 


100    THE   SNAKE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

saw  you,  why  he  does  not  wish  you  to  make  your 
residence  in  this  house.  Indeed,  if  I  remember 
correctly,  he  even  suggested  at  your  conference  that 
you  would  be  more  comfortable  at  the  farmhouse." 

"  Nevertheless  I  cannot  connect  him  with  these 
notes,"  I  said  obstinately. 

'"  Well,  I  don't  insist  that  it  is  necessary.  How- 
ever, I  think  it  is  as  reasonable  a  conjecture  as  yours 
that  Horsford  is  connected  either  with  the  crime 
or  with  the  warnings." 

"  Then  how  do  you  account  for  his  manner,  and 
for  what  I  heard  in  the  cottage  ?  " 

"That  I  will  answer  later.  He  may  be  a  bit  of 
a  domestic  tyrant,  but  I  have  a  theory  which  covers 
the  whole  ground,  and  I  will  prove  or  disprove  it 
before  I  leave  here  on  Monday." 

The  following  morning,  which  was  Sunday,  Kil- 
bourne's  room  was  vacant  when  I  left  mine.  I  was 
somewhat  surprised  by  this,  for  I  knew  that  a  habit 
of  early  rising  was  not  among  Kilbourne's  virtues. 
I  concluded,  however,  that  the  crisp  salt  air  and  the 
prospect  of  exploring  without  interruption  various 
corners  left  unseen  on  the  previous  evening  had  been 
the  allurements. 

When,  however,  nine  o'clock  passed  and  Kil- 
bourne  had  not  been  seen,  I  confess  to  having  felt  a 
curious  anxiety  as  to  his  whereabouts.  As  I  en- 
tered the  dining  room  I  recalled  what  he  had  said 
about  probing  the  Horsford  matter  and  I  instructed 
Gaspard  to  go  down  to  the  cottage  and  see  whether 
Mr.  Kilbourne  was  there  or  had  been  there.  Then 
I  returned  to  the  portico  to  await  Gaspard's  return. 


THE   SECEET  OF  THE   HOESFOEDS    101 

Presently,  I  caught  a  glimpse  between  the  trees  of 
a  man  walking  briskly  along  the  gravel  path  that 
bordered  the  sunken  gardens  at  the  northwest.  He 
was  coming  toward  the  house,  and  for  an  instant  I 
thought  it  was  Kilbourne.  Directly,  however,  I  saw 
my  mistake.  The  man  was  a  stranger  and  was  clad 
in  overalls.  I  recalled  that  Horsford  had  referred 
to  a  helper  who  would  be  coming  shortly,  and  de- 
cided that  this  was  probably  the  man.  But  I  was 
curious  as  to  why  he  was  coming  to  the  house  instead 
of  transacting  his  business  with  Gaspard,  whom  he 
must  have  passed  a  few  feet  back.  At  that  instant 
the  stranger  disappeared,  and  I  hurried  into  the 
house  and  to  the  back  door,  expecting  to  find  him 
awaiting  me.  To  my  surprise  there  was  no  one 
there,  or  anywhere  about,  and  I  followed  the  path 
around  to  the  portico  without  seeing  the  man.  I 
decided  that  he  had  left  the  gravel  path  and  made  a 
cut  to  the  highroad  through  the  triangle  of  woods. 
But  I  could  not  see  what  would  possess  anyone  com- 
ing from  the  cottage  to  take  such  a  roundabout  way 
of  getting  out  of  the  grounds. 

I  was  about  to  put  off  in  the  direction  he  must 
have  taken  to  satisfy  myself  that  he  was  there, 
when  Gaspard  returned.  Mr.  Kilbourne  had  not 
been  seen  at  the  farmhouse,  and  Gaspard  had  been 
turned  down  frigidly  by  the  laird  of  the  cottage. 
He  was  smarting  a  little  as  a  result,  for  Mrs.  Hors- 
ford had  been  more  gay  and  talkative  than  ever 
before  to  him,  and  his  fancy  had  flown  high  for  a 
moment  that  he  could  get  some  information  for  me. 

I  listened  to  Gaspard's  chatter,  only  half  heeding 


102    THE   SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

it,  for  the  feeling  of  anxiety  concerning  Kilbourne 
had  returned.  I  made  a  somewhat  hasty  disposition 
of  the  breakfast,  and  just  as  I  was  folding  my  nap- 
kin Kilbourne  entered  the  room,  radiant  from  his 
usual  morning  "  dip  "  and  faultlessly  attired. 

"  Ah !  "  he  exclaimed  with  animation  as  his  quick 
eye  took  in  the  situation,  "  I  have  to  beg  your  pardon 
for  keeping  you  on  tenterhooks  as  to  my  whereabouts. 
But  I  have  done  a  day's  work,  lad.  I  have  redeemed 
my  promise.  Behold  the  possessor  of  the  Horsford 
family  skeleton." 

"  The  deuce  you  are !  They  told  Gaspard  that 
they  had  not  seen  you." 

"  You  can't  always  tell  a  man  by  the  clothes  he 
wears,"  parodied  Kilbourne  gayly.  "  By  Jove,  man, 
I  'm  all  but  famished !  "  And  he  set  himself  with 
deliberate  concentration  to  the  matter  in  hand. 

I  realized  the  uselessness  of  questioning  him  un- 
til his  inner  man  were  appeased,  so  I  ordered  another 
cup  of  coffee  and  over  it  discussed  impartially  vari- 
ous commonplaces.  When  Kilbourne  had  finished 
breakfast,  and  we  had  lighted  cigars  and  strolled  to 
the  portico,  I  said : 

"  And  now  about  your  before-breakfast  exploit, 
Kilbourne  ? " 

Kilbourne  appeared  not  to  hear.  He  leaned 
against  a  pillar  and  looked  out  toward  the  bay  where 
a  few  white-sailed  boats  rode  merrily  in  the  sun- 
light. 

"  By  the  way,"  he  remarked  presently,  "  who  's 
that  deuced  pretty  girl  who  stores  her  boat  next 
door  to  yours  ?  " 


THE  SECRET  OF  THE  HORSFORDS  103 

"  How,  Mr.  Murray  Kilbourne,  do  you  know  that 
there  is  a  pretty  girl  who  stores  her  boat  next  door 
to  mine  ? " 

Kilbourne  smiled  enigmatically. 

"  '  'T  is  the  early  bird  that  catches  the  first  worm/ 
you  have  heard.  When  I  am  in  the  country  I  have 
a  habit  of  early  rising." 

"  Ah !  And  so,  also,  has  Miss  Dolly  Undine,  I 
dare  say !  " 

"  Dolly  Undine,"  repeated  Kilbourne.  "  Surely 
her  name  is  not  t  Undine' !  " 

"  So  far  as  I  know  to  the  contrary  it  is." 

Kilbourne  stared  at  me. 

"  Deuced  clever  this  morning,  are  n't  we  ?  "  he 
inquired.  "  Well,  if  you  don't  know  her  name  I 
can't  expect  you  to  tell  it  me  —  Mr.  McClure  ought 
to  know  her.  By  the  way,  I  believe  I  'd  better  look 
up  Mr.  McClure.  Will  you  take  me  over  now  ? " 
And  Kilbourne  turned  on  me  a  mischievous  look  as 
he  puffed  out  a  mouthful  of  smoke. 

"  Certainly  I  will  take  you  to  Red  Gable  —  that 
is  the  name  of  the  McClure  place  —  whenever  you 
like.  But  first  about  Horsford." 

"  Oh,  that  is  a  tale  soon  told,"  Kilbourne  an- 
swered carelessly.  "  Horsford  stands  in  lively  fear 
that  you  will  learn  of  his  wife's  habits.  As  I  sur- 
mised from  your  story,  she  drinks,  and  when  in 
her  cups  is  inclined  toward  suicide.  Moreover, 
she  wants  to  kill  the  child,  as  well.  I  fancy 
that  Horsford  has  anything  but  an  eventless 
life." 

"  Are  such  occasions  frequent  ?  " 


104    THE   SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

"  As  often  as  a  sister,  as  bad  as  herself,  brings 
her  the  stuff  from  Clinton ville." 

In  a  flash,  then,  I  saw  the  meaning  of  Mrs. 
Horsford's  peculiarity  of  manner. 

"  If  that  is  all  there  is  to  it,  Kilbourne,  why  does 
Horsford  object  to  having  me  here,  or  to  having  me 
go  to  the  cottage  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  unless  he  fears  that  any  tenant 
may  mean  the  forfeiture  of  his  present  profitable 
berth.  I  know  he  fears  that  his  wife's  weakness 
may  cost  him  his  place." 

"  But,  Kilbourne,  how  did  you  learn  all  this  ?  " 

"  Oh,  come !  "  he  said,  with  a  laugh,  running 
down  the  steps,  "  you  promised  to  take  me  to  Mr. 
McClure." 

"  How  did  you  come  by  all  this  information  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  dare  say  you  noticed  the  man  in  blue 
jeans  who  walked  up  the  back  drive  and  around 
the  sunken  gardens  an  hour  or  so  ago  ?  You  looked 
at  him,  at  any  rate." 

"  Jerusalem !    Was  that  you,  after  all  ?  " 

"Yes,  clever  lad!" 

"  I  suppose  it  is  useless  to  ask  you  how  you 
managed  your  game  ? " 

"  Practically  so,"  answered  Kilbourne  soberly. 
" '  The  end  justifies  the  means/  you  know." 

I  had  joined  him  on  the  drive  by  this  time,  and 
we  crossed  over  to  the  cool,  green  grass  of  the  lawn. 
After  a  little  I  said: 

"  Kilbourne,  are  you  still  of  the  opinion  that 
Horsford  is  not  connected  with  those  anonymous 
messages  ? " 


THE   SECKET   OF  THE  HORSFORDS    105 

"  I  am,"  positively. 

"  And  knows  no  more  about  Mr.  Somhers'  death 
than  he  would  have  us  believe  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  think  he  does." 

"  Kilbourne,"  I  ventured  presently,  "  the  magic 
key  to  this  whole  miserable  puzzle  lies  right  here 
in  Winton,  of  that  I  am  confident.  Could  n't  you 
manage  to  spend  this  week  with  me  and  help  me 
find  it?" 

Kilbourne  looked  straight  before  him. 

"  I  have  n't  a  doubt  about  it,"  he  answered,  "  but 
—  I  don't  purpose  to  manage  that  way.  Call  me 
what  names  you  will,  but  permit  me  to  keep  out  of 
the  zone  of  the  Milbrath."  He  shivered  slightly  as 
he  spoke,  notwithstanding  the  warmth  of  the  day. 

We  had  reached  the  triangle  of  woods  by  this 
time. 

"  By  the  way,  Murray,"  I  said  significantly, 
"  Mr.  McClure  is  quite  as  likely  to  be  at  home  in 
the  afternoon  as  in  the  morning,  but  I  've  learned 
by  experience  that  Miss  Dolly  Undine  prefers  the 
forenoons  for  her  outings.  Still,  we  '11  go  to  Red 
Gables  now  if  you  say  so." 

"  Hang  Red  Gables !  "  responded  Kilbourne,  as 
he  turned  on  his  heel  toward  the  beach.  "  We  will 
see  Mr.  McClure  this  afternoon." 


CHAPTER   XII 

THE    MAGICIAN    OF    EED    GABLES 

call  at  Red  Gables  resulted,  to  me,  at  least, 
in  several  surprises. 

In  the  first  place,  Mr.  McClure  was  much  older 
than  I  had  thought,  and  he  possessed  a  charm  which 
to  this  day  I  have  not  been  able  to  analyze.  It  lay 
not  in  his  appearance,  for  he  was  so  plain  as  to  be 
almost  grotesque;  not  in  his  manner,  for  that  was 
frequently  abstracted;  not  in  his  sympathy,  even, 
though  that  was  as  quick  as  in  a  tender  woman.  His 
smile  was,  indeed,  the  only  tangible  evidence  of  it, 
and  that  did  not  explain  the  spell  under  which  all 
passed  who  came  to  know  him. 

Perhaps  the  secret  of  his  fascination  lay  in  his 
attitude  toward  life,  in  his  almost  child-like  belief 
in  the  supremacy  of  those  things  that  are  good  and 
wholesome  and  abiding;  it  may  be  that  he  radiated 
an  atmosphere  of  faith.  I  know  that  he  had  the 
affection  of  all,  and,  in  return,  found  some  good  in 
everything. 

We  found  him  under  a  tree  on  his  lawn  minister- 
ing to  an  assembly  of  squirrels.  He  recalled  Kil- 
bourne  at  once,  with  apparent  delight,  and  assured 
me  that  any  man  who  was  Mr.  Kilbourne's  friend 
was  his  also.  I  had  passed  at  once  under  the  spell 
of  the  magician  of  Red  Gables  and,  with  Kilbourne, 
gladly  followed  to  the  wide  veranda,  where  directly 


THE  MAGICIAN   OF  RED  GABLES     107 

we  found  ourselves  in  big  chairs,  our  feet  upon  the 
veranda  rail  and  our  heads  enveloped  in  smoke. 

I  was  not  long  in  learning  that  Mr.  McClure 
and  Mr.  Somhers  had  been  friends;  and  I  soon 
found,  also,  that  Harrison  Milbrath  could  boast 
no  stauncher  or  more  sympathetic  defender  than 
Chauncey  McClure;  but  Mr.  McClure  appeared 
reticent  and  perhaps  distressed,  on  the  subject  of 
the  tragedy,  and  as  Kilbourne  became  gloomy  and 
unsociable  it  was  speedily  shelved  to  await  a  more 
opportune  time. 

Mr.  McClure  had  gone  indoors  for  a  volume 
which  Kilbourne  and  he  were  discussing,  when,  of  a 
sudden,  the  clatter  of  a  horse's  hoofs  fell  upon  our 
ears,  and  directly  a  black  mare  that  I  recognized  as 
Mercedes  galloped  like  one  possessed  up  the  drive 
toward  us,  bearing  upon  her  back  —  Dolly,  of 
course,  flushed,  excited,  laughing,  her  hair  flying 
about  her  face  and  streaming  out  behind,  and  the 
sunbonnet,  for  once  not  even  pretending  to  protect 
her,  hanging  from  the  horn  of  her  saddle! 

Too  busy  with  my  own  thoughts  to  consider  what 
the  appearance  might  mean  to  Kilbourne,  I  stared 
joyously  at  the  vision,  as  she  quickly  dismounted  at 
the  horse  block  and  ran  up  the  steps.  Just  then  Mr. 
McClure  appeared  in  the  doorway,  book  in  hand. 

"  Dolly !  Dolly  my  dear !  Will  you  never  grow 
up  ? "  he  exclaimed,  but  his  winning  smile  illu- 
mined his  features  as  he  crossed  the  veranda  to  the 
girl's  side. 

She  turned  and  threw  herself  into  his  arms,  her 
own  about  his  neck,  laughing  and  mocking  him 


108    THE   SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

adorably.  She  had  not  seen  Kilbourne  and  me,  I 
know,  for  when  she  lifted  her  head  from  the  old 
man's  shoulder  and  her  eyes  encountered  mine  they 
distended  almost  with  fear,  it  seemed,  and  she  ut- 
tered a  startled  cry. 

"  Why,  child,  did  you  not  know  that  we  have 
callers  ?  "  Mr.  McClure  asked.  "  See,  Dolly,  my 
dear,  I  want  these  new  friends  of  mine  to  know  you. 
Gentlemen,  this  is  my  only  living  kin,  my  beloved 
granddaughter  and  housekeeper,  Dolores." 

Had  I  possessed  even  the  wit  of  a  mummy  I 
thought  in  that  moment  I  might  at  least  have  traced 
her  to  Red  Gables.  What  place  was  more  likely 
to  share  that  tiny  stretch  of  beach  with  Overlook? 
What  other  place,  indeed,  was  near  Overlook  to 
share  it? 

In  this  brief  interval  of  salutation  and  self- 
criticism,  Miss  Dolly  had  acknowledged  our  intro- 
ductions with  formal  bows  and  an  exceedingly  grave 
countenance,  but  her  manner  toward  me  indicated 
no  recognition.  She  disappeared  directly,  and  I 
was  wondering  whether  it  were  a  part  of  her  idea  of 
propriety  to  begin  an  acquaintance  with  this  meet- 
ing, when  she  returned,  her  hair  coiled  high  upon 
her  head,  her  dress  skirt  very  long,  her  carriage  very 
stately,  and,  in  fact,  once  more  my  beauty  of  the 
train.  She  came  directly  to  me. 

"  I  want  to  ask  your  forgiveness  for  my  words 
and  conduct  yesterday,"  she  said  smilingly,  and 
stretched  out  a  tiny  hand  which  I  grasped  with 
unnecessary  fervor.  "  I  knew  that  I  was  wrong  as 
soon  as  I  stopped  to  think,"  she  went  on  before  I 


THE   MAGICIAN   OF  KED  GABLES     109 

could  answer,  "  and  I  've  been  to  the  beach  twice  in 
the  hope  of  seeing  you  and  telling  you  so." 

"  Why,  Dolly,  have  you  and  Mr.  Bliss  met  be- 
fore to-di-y  ? "  Mr.  McClure  asked  in  astonished 
accents,  and  Kilbourne  looked  quizzical. 

Dolly  laughed,  and  going  to  her  grandfather's 
chair  she  perched  upon  one  arm  of  it. 

"  Mr.  Bliss  found  my  locket,  grandpa,  dear,"  she 
explained. 

Mr.  McClure's  face  instantly  radiated  a  hundred 
lines  of  amusement. 

"  Ah !  "  said  he,  "  then  Mr.  Bliss  is  the  most 
recent  victim  of  your  pranks,  child !  "  He  lifted  a 
warning  finger. 

"  My  granddaughter  will  bear  watching,  gentle- 
men," he  cautioned  smilingly.  "  For  mischief  when 
the  mood  is  upon  her,  she  is  a  veritable  sprite. 
Pray  do  not  take  her  too  seriously  at  any  time." 

Dolly  pouted  bewitchingly,  in  protesting  indigna- 
tion; then  smiled  enigmatically,  and,  with  consum- 
mate tact,  directed  the  conversation  from  herself. 

With  as  much  skill,  Kilbourne  adjusted  condi- 
tions to  meet  his  ideas  of  enjoyment,  with  the  result 
that  presently  I  found,  with  a  little  thrill  of  jeal- 
ousy, that  I  was  sidetracked  with  Mr.  McClure 
while  Kilbourne  had  Dolly  to  himself. 

"  You  have  chosen  a  lovely  spot  for  your  sum- 
mer's outing,  Mr.  Bliss,"  Mr.  McClure  remarked. 
I  agreed  with  him  so  heartily  as  to  bring  a  smile  to 
his  face. 

"  If  there 's  a  lovelier  one  on  earth  I  'd  like  to 
see  it,"  I  answered.  "  But  Horsford,  the  farmer, 


110    THE   SXAKE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

assures  me  that  the  house  is  possessed  of  an  evil 
genius  and  advises  me  not  to  live  there." 

Mr.  McClure  looked  serious. 

"  Perhaps  he  is  the  originator  of  the  sentiment 
against  Overlook  that  appears  to  have  taken  root  in 
the  village,"  he  said  thoughtfully.  "  Doubtless  you 
have  observed  it.  Only  yesterday  the  man  who 
assists  my  out-of-doors  man  gravely  informed  me 
that  the  place  was  haunted." 

"Did  he  say  by  what?" 

"  By  the  spirit  of  Mr.  Somhers." 

"  Um !  That  is  farther  than  Horsford  went.  He 
implied  that  there  is  a  'real  ghost/  but  it  was  to 
the  atmosphere  of  mystery  and  danger  that  he  re- 
ferred. I  dare  say  this  man  of  yours  has  seen  the 
ghost!" 

Mr.  McClure  shook  his  head  more  solemnly  than 
the  occasion  appeared  to  warrant. 

"  What  he  had  to  tell  was  merely  hearsay.  Some 
boys,  including  one  of  his  own,  ventured  on  a  twi- 
light game  of  '  hide-and-seek '  on  the  lawn  of  Over- 
look, and  at  one  of  their  l  counting-out '  periods, 
when  they  were  assembled,  they  distinctly  saw  the 
figure  of  Mr.  Somhers  approaching  them." 

"  I  '11  warrant  they  did  n't  wait  for  him  to  reach 
them !  "  I  smiled. 

Mr.  McClure  did  not  respond  to  my  mood.  He 
continued  as  if  he  had  not  heard  me. 

"  And  a  few  weeks  ago  a  story  was  going  the 
rounds  that  on  several  occasions  a  light  was  seen 
shining  from  the  windows  of  the  library  in  the 
dead  of  night." 


THE   MAGICIAN   OF   KED   GABLES    111 

"  The  shutters  of  the  windows  were  closed  and 
locked  on  the  morning  of  my  arrival." 

"  They  were  closed,  also,  on  the  mornings  follow- 
ing those  occasions,  as  they  had  been  on  the  even- 
ings preceding  them  —  so  say  the  tale-mongers." 

"  Are  such  stories  generally  credited  in  the 
village  ? " 

Mr.  McClure  gazed  before  him  with  curiously 
abstracted  eyes.  But  he  heard  me,  for  presently  he 
answered  with  a  smile : 

"  That  is  difficult  to  say.  Mr.  Somhers'  death 
was  practically  the  first  tragedy  in  the  history  of  the 
village,  and  it  shook  it  to  its  foundations.  Since 
then  Overlook  has  been  regarded  by  many  as  a  place 
of  evil  habitation.  Indeed,  it  is  natural,  is  it  not, 
since  the  latent  belief  in  the  supernatural  which 
is  in  all  of  us  has  been  roused  in  Winton,  that  the 
more  credulous,  especially  those  who  believed  in 
Harry's  innocence,  should  credit  the  rumors  that 
Mr.  Somhers  has  returned  in  spirit  to  avenge  his 
untimely  end  ? " 

"  I  seem  to  have  come  unknowingly  to  a  veritable 
'  palace  of  mysteries,'  "  I  said. 

"  Nevertheless,  I  fear  that  from  that  standpoint 
you  will  be  disillusioned,"  smiled  Mr.  McClure. 
"  Take  away  all  knowledge  of  its  history  and  it  must 
become  one  of  the  most  delightful  country  places  in 
New  England.  But  this  I  believe,  Mr.  Bliss:  If 
the  dead  have  the  power  to  return,  to  avenge  their 
deaths  where  avenge  is  needed,  to  comfort  those 
who  mourn  for  them,  or  to  help  the  living,  Peter 
Somhers  would  come  and  set  free  that  poor,  sensi- 


112    THE   SNAKE  OE   CIKCUMSTANCE 

tive  lad  who  is  still  bound  by  the  chains  of  circum- 
stance. He  would  hound  the  guilty  to  confession 
and  bring  restitution  and  comfort  to  those  who  have 
been  wronged  through  his  death.  For  that  was  his 
creed,  Mr.  Bliss,  endurance  to  the  limit,  then  — 
the  old  law,  l  an  eye  for  an  eye,  a  tooth  for  a  tooth.' ' 
He  paused,  and  for  a  moment  seemed  lost  in  thought. 
"  There  are,  indeed,  more  things  in  heaven  and  upon 
earth  than  our  philosophy  dreams  of,"  he  continued 
slowly.  "  It  may  be  that  a  return  is  possible,  in  the 
semblance  of  the  earth  form,  even.  What  proof 
have  we  that  such  is  not  the  case,  that  Peter  Somhers 
has  come  into  possession  of  powers  that  permit  him 
to  avenge  his  death  ?  " 

Mr.  McClure  paused  as  if  conscious  that  he  had 
been  speaking  more  to  himself  than  to  me.  A  deep 
fire  glowed  in  his  eyes  as  he  turned  them  steadily 
to  mine. 

"  In  presenting  theories  not  accepted  by  popular 
thought  I  am,  I  know,  Mr.  Bliss,  endangering  my 
reputation  for  conservatism,"  he  said.  "  It  is  only 
recently  that  I  have  indulged  in  speculation  of  this 
nature,  but  I  have  had  an  experience  that  sent  my 
thoughts  in  channels  quite  out  of  their  usual  run. 
Wild  as  the  statement  may  sound  to  you,  it  is  a  fact 
that  I,  too,  this  summer,  nearly  two  years  after  his 
death,  have  seen  the  spirit  of  my  old  friend,  Peter 
Somhers !  " 


CHAPTER   XIII 

THE   VOICE    OF    BEELZEBUB 

TT  was  impossible  to  doubt  Mr.  McClure's  serious- 
-*-  ness,  and  I  regarded  him  with  curiosity.  Could 
it  be  that  the  old  fellow  was  a  bit  unstrung  men- 
tally? But  no.  Impossible  that  eyes  so  clear  and 
steady  could  mirror  the  fancies  of  an  unbalanced 
brain.  He  had  somehow  been  tricked ;  or,  perhaps 
the  case  was  one  of  illusion.  One  hears  of  instances 
of  spirit  manifestation,  but  does  one  ever  verify 
them? 

"  Indeed !  "  I  exclaimed,  "  you  interest  me.  Will 
you  be  so  good  as  to  tell  me  the  details  of  your 
experience  ? " 

"  Willingly,"  Mr.  McClure  responded  promptly. 
"  I  have  referred  to  it  chiefly  in  the  hope  that  it 
might  be  of  assistance  to  you."  He  hesitated  and 
regarded  me  momentarily  with  a  questioning  gaze. 
"  But,  for  the  present,  at  least,"  he  continued,  "  I 
prefer  that  it  should  not  become  village  property. 
It  was  just  a  week  ago  this  evening  that  I  paused 
by  the  gate  yonder,  as  I  often  do  in  my  walk,  and 
looked  beyond  me  to  Overlook.  The  sun  had  been 
down  for  an  hour,  but  a  wonderful  afterglow  fol- 
lowed, and  there  was  still  enough  light  in  the  sky  to 
bring  out  with  distinctness  the  objects  at  the  crest 


114    THE   SNAKE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

of  the  knoll.  Suddenly,  as  I  gazed,  the  figure  of 
a  man  became  outlined  against  the  sky  between  the 
rustic  bench  and  the  statue  of  Niobe." 

Mr.  McClure  paused  and  his  fingers  moved  as 
though  the  recollection  of  what  he  had  seen  dis- 
tressed him,  but  in  a  moment  he  resumed: 

"  My  first  thought,  naturally,  was  that  it  was 
some  one  connected  with  the  place,  Horsford,  per- 
haps; but  directly  I  recognized  its  resemblance  to 
—  to  Peter  Somhers.  Its  back  was  against  the  light 
and  from  where  I  stood  its  face  was  indistinguish- 
able, but  the  build  and  carriage  were  unmistakable. 
Then,  as  I  gazed,  it  vanished.  It  did  not  move 
away,  it  did  not  drop  to  the  ground,  so  far  as  I 
could  see,  it  simply  disappeared.  I  crossed  the 
road,  and  went  through  the  grove  to  the  house, 
thence  about  the  grounds  and  to  the  cottage,  but  not 
a  person  did  I  see  or  a  footstep  hear.  The  follow- 
ing morning  I  examined  the  ground  where  the  figure 
had  stood,  but  the  grass  was  short  and  even  my  own 
shoes  left  no  marks  upon  it,  so  I  gained  nothing 
there.  But,  Mr.  Bliss,  the  figure  was  not  an  illu- 
sion. Phantom  or  man  it  was  real,  and  individual, 
and  if  it  was  not  a  '  materialization '  some  one  on 
earth  has  a  wish  to  give  color  to  the  sentiment 
against  the  place." 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  "  I  agree  with  you." 

"And,"  declared  Mr.  McClure  impressively, 
leaning  toward  me,  "  in  that  case  we  must  appre- 
hend the  miscreant." 

"  Exactly." 

Mr.  McClure  settled  back  in  his  chair  with  the 


THE    VOICE    OF    BEELZEBUB       115 

pleased  air  of  one  who  has  completed  a  difficult  task 
satisfactorily. 

"  I  have  been  sorely  distressed  because  of  my  ex- 
perience," he  explained,  "  but  now  I  am  relieved. 
I  have  been  at  a  loss  to  decide  whether  it  is  with 
the  designing  living  or  with  the  supernatural  that 
the  case  should  be  classed.  But  as  you  are  now  oc- 
cupying Overlook  you  will  investigate,  perhaps, 
more  thoroughly  than  I  could  without  exciting  sus- 
picion; and  if  you  need  any  assistance,  Mr.  Bliss, 
remember  that " 

"  Oh,  grandpa  McClure !  "  cried  Dolly  at  that 
moment,  "  Mr.  Kilbourne  is  that  extraordinary 
man  you  used  to  tell  me  about!  Oh,  I  know  quite 
well  "  —  to  Kilbourne  —  "  that  you  recovered 
grandpa's  watch  from  an  immigrant  on  the  ship 
who  had  stolen  into  the  cabin  and  taken  it.  And 
I  Ve  heard  of  the  clever  things  you  did  to  entertain 
the  panicky  passengers  when  a  fire  broke  out  in  the 
hold.  I  used  to  sit  with  my  eyes  popping  out  and 
my  mouth  open  when  grandpa  told  those  stories. 
You  were  quite  the  most  wonderful  man,  I  assure 
you." 

Then  the  conversation  drifted  to  Kilbourne's 
powers  of  observation  and  deduction,  and  Mr.  Mc- 
Clure did  not  again  that  day  mention  his  mysterious 
experience. 

It  was  past  nine  o'clock  when  we  took  our  de- 
parture from  Red  Gables,  for  Mr.  McClure,  sec- 
onded by  Dolly,  asked  us  to  remain  to  tea,  and  Kil- 
bourne. without  reference  to  me,  joyfully  accepted 
the  invitation.  His  spirits  remained  at  top  notch 


116    THE   SNAKE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

all  the  evening,  and  it  was  with  obvious  reluctance 
that  he  left  with  me  when  I  resolutely  withdrew. 

"  We  shall  look  for  frequent  calls  from  Mr.  Bliss, 
since  he  is  to  be  so  near,  and  I  hope,  Mr.  Kilbourne, 
that  we  shall  see  you  in  Winton  very  often  this 
summer."  Mr.  McClure  remarked  heartily  as  we 
rose. 

"  I  'm  returning  to  Overlook  next  Saturday,"  an- 
swered Kilbourne  —  which  was  news  to  me  —  "  and 
it  is  highly  probable  that  I  shall  remain  a  week. 
Be  sure  that  I  shall  come  here  as  often  as  you  will 
let  me.  You  see,  Mr.  Bliss  and  I  are  working  to- 
gether. No  —  not  literary,  exactly  —  semi-scientific, 
I  should  call  it  —  work  that  must  be  finished  soon, 
and  as  Mr.  Bliss  is  under  orders  to  keep  to  the 
country  during  the  heated  term,  it  will  doubtless 
fall  to  my  pleasant  lot  to  come  out  to  him." 

"  Why !  why !  I  should  never  have  dreamed  that 
you  were  in  a  doctor's  care,  Mr.  Bliss,"  exclaimed 
Mr.  McClure.  (Nor  should  I,  was  my  mental 
comment. )  "  You  look  so  thoroughly  well.  I 
hope  you  find  that  the  Winton  air  is  benefiting 
you?" 

"  It  is  all,  and  more,  than  I  hoped  for,"  I  an- 
swered truthfully;  and  I  assured  him  that  my 
trouble  was  a  mere  nothing,  a  tendency  to  heart 
weakness  being  my  chief  difficulty  —  a  remark  that 
brought  a  sharp  glance  from  Kilbourne,  but  ap- 
peared to  leave  my  host  and  his  fair  granddaughter 
in  doubt  as  to  my  seriousness. 

But  Kilbourne  had  the  last  words  with  Dolly,  and 
before  he  left  he  had  extracted  from  the  old  gentle- 


THE    VOICE    OF   BEELZEBUB      117 

man  an  invitation  to  spend  the  afternoon  and  even- 
ing at  Red  Gables  on  the  following  Sunday. 

When  we  were  on  the  highroad,  Kilbourne  drew 
my  arm  through  his. 

"  You  look  weary,  lad,"  he  said.  "  A  sick  man 
should  be  abed  by  this  hour." 

"  Hang  your  humor,  Kilbourne !  Suppose  we 
change  the  subject  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  What  charming  people,  the  Mc- 
Clures.  Let  me  thank  you  for  putting  me  in  the 
way  to  see  more  of  them  —  permitting  me  to  ask 
myself  up  again,  you  know." 

"  Oh,  well,  you  're  welcome !  " 

"  Sounds  cordial !  I  'm  accustomed,  however,  to 
contained  expression  on  the  part  of  your  excellency ; 

I  know  therefore  that  you  mean Holy  smoke ! 

Is  that  one  of  the  novelties  you  offer  visitors  ? " 

A  cry  broke  upon  the  air,  not  loud  at  first,  but 
penetrating,  and  so  unusual  as  to  be  unclassifiable. 
Was  it  of  rage  or  of  pain  ?  Or  was  it  a  laugh  ?  It 
rose,  trembled  and  broke;  and  it  was  not  repeated. 

"  Good  heavens !  "  I  cried.  "  Can  Gaspard  have 
gone  suddenly  mad  ?  " 

We  hastened  up  the  drive,  our  eyes  fixed  on  a 
glimmer  of  light  that  flitted  from  room  to  room  on 
the  ground  floor  of  the  villa.  When  we  reached  the 
portico  entrance  we  found  Gaspard  on  the  other  side 
of  the  screen  door,  a  lamp  in  one  hand,  a  cocked 
pistol  in  the  other. 

"  You  heard  it,  m'sieus ;  zee  —  vat  it  vaz  ?  — 
zee  laugh,  zee  cry?  A  cra-zie  homme  I  thought  I 
vould  see." 


118    THE   SNAKE  OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

"  Where  was  it,  this  —  noise  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Ici.     In  zis  ve'y  maison,  m'sieu." 

"  Are  you  certain  it  was  in  the  house  ?  " 

"  Oui,  m'sieu,  here." 

"  Have  you  looked  ?  " 

"  All  vhere  —  zis  chambre,  zat  chambre,  up  zee 
stairs,  down  zee  stair;  oui,  all  vhere.  Zere  vas  no 
one,  m'sieu.  It  was  zee  voice  of  Beel-ze-bub;  it 
could  be  no  other !  Or  of  zee  dead !  " 

"  Nonsense !  "  I  cried  sharply.  If  at  this  late 
day  Gaspard  were  to  get  notions  of  the  supernatural 
into  his  head  I  should,  indeed,  have  a  fine  time. 

"  Come,"  said  Kilbourne,  taking  the  lamp  from 
Gaspard  and  instructing  him  to  light  the  one  that 
hung  in  the  hall.  "  Let  us  see  for  ourselves.  Bet- 
ter get  your  revolver,  Bliss,"  he  added  in  an  under- 
tone. It  took  but  a  moment  to  act  upon  his 
suggestion. 

"  Gaspard  tells  me  that  the  house  is  locked  ex- 
cept for  this  door,  and  he  will  stay  by  it  until  we 
return,"  said  Kilbourne.  "  With  your  permission 
we  will  lock  every  room  as  we  leave  it  Have  you 
a  key  ring  ?  " 

I  produced  one  and  we  went  through  the  house 
room  after  room,  not  omitting  the  attic  and  cellar, 
looking  under  beds,  behind  bureaus  and  in  boxes  and 
closets.  Everything  was  in  place,  and  save  for  our 
own  footsteps  and  the  ticking  of  a  clock,  everything 
was  as  silent  as  a  desert  Then  we  made  a  detour 
of  the  grounds,  but  we  returned  no  wiser  than  we 
went. 

"  It  is  probably  not  worth  while  to  look  for  foot- 


prints/'  remarked  Kilbourne.  "  The  ground  is  too 
dry  to  take  a  light  impression,  and  no  sane  person 
would  think  of  moving  on  the  crunching  gravel 
when  there  is  so  much  sod." 

"  You  think,  then,  it  was  a  sane  person  ?  "  I  asked 
foolishly,  and  was  rewarded  by  a  contemptuous 
glance  from  the  corner  of  my  friend's  eye. 

"  It  seems  to  me  it  would  be  wise  for  you  and 
Gaspard  to  go  down  to  the  cottage  and  see  that  all 
is  well  there,"  he  said  as  we  reached  the  house.  "  I 
will  remain  here,  with  your  pistol,  if  you  please, 
and  that  lamp,  Gaspard,  until  you  return." 

The  cottage  was  in  darkness.  I  roused  the  Hors- 
fords,  however,  and  learned  that  Mrs.  Horsford  was 
herself  and  not  responsible  for  the  noise  and  that 
it  had  not  been  heard  down  there,  and  Gaspard  and 
I  returned  to  the  house. 

"  Ten  to  one  you  '11  find  another  warning  in  the 
morning,"  prophesied  Kilbourne,  stepping  into  my 
room  an  hour  later  as  we  were  preparing  for  bed. 

"  You  think  that  the  cry  came  from  the  warner  ?  " 
I  asked  with  attempted  wit. 

"  Aye ;  there  is  some  one  who  has  sad  need  of 
getting  you  from  Overlook,  and  when  you  find  him 
you  will  know  who  sent  the  anonymous  notes,  and, 
perhaps,  who  killed  the  old  man  Somhers." 

"  But  where  does  he  stay,  Kilbourne  2  " 

"  You  have  me  there.  Jove !  if  it  were  n't  for 
that  Milbrath,  I  'd  go  into  this  thing  with  a  relish. 
You  have  some  very  unusual  and  interesting  feat- 
ures to  work  upon,  lad,  and  I  envy  you.  There  is 
one  thing  that  you  can  count  upon,"  he  went  on 


120    THE   SNAKE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

after  a  pause.  "  If  a  warning  is  left  here  to-night 
the  one  who  leaves  it  had  a  pass  key,  or " 

"Yes,  or?" 

Kilbourne's  eyes  twinkled  mischievously. 

"  That  Gaspard  has  spotted  the  man  —  '  Beel- 
ze-bub!'" 


HTTTTON    GOSSIPS 

ON  the  following  morning  Murray  Kilbourne  left 
Winton  a  disappointed  man  in  one  particular. 
He  had  hoped  to  find  a  warning,  and  there  was 
none. 

"  My  theory  is  the  same,  nevertheless,"  he  de- 
clared stoutly.  "  Find  who  uttered  that  cry  and 
you  will  find  the  author  of  your  anonymous 
communications,  and,  probably,  who  murdered 
Somhers." 

"  Remain,  Kilbourne,  and  help  me  find  him." 

Instantly  Kilbourne's  manner  of  alert  interest 
changed  to  one  of  indifference. 

"  There 's  nothing  about  the  case  that  attracts 
me,"  he  said  languidly. 

"  Nonsense !  You  spoke  differently  last  night. 
Be  frank  with  yourself  to-day  and  admit  that  it  is 
only  that  you  have  a  prejudice  against  young 
Milbrath." 

Kilbourne  shrugged  his  gaunt  shoulders. 

"  As  you  will.  Let  it  be  understood,  however, 
that  my  return  at  the  end  of  the  week  will  have 
nothing  to  do  with  the  case." 

"  Very  well.  You  need  not  distress  yourself  lest 
I  forget.  I  will  trouble  you  with  no  further 
details." 


122    THE   SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

Kilbourne  stared  at  me  meditatively,  but  made 
no  comment  then. 

"  I  hope  you  '11  have  more  charity  in  your  heart 
for  me  by  Saturday,"  he  said  soberly  at  parting. 
"  I  don't  mean  to  be  such  a  bad  fellow  and  a  selfish 
lout.  It 's  no  doubt  a  pity  that  the  Lord  gave  me 
instinct.  I  can't  see  that  the  results  of  my  pre- 
science are  usually  much  to  my  advantage,  if  to 
anybody's." 

That  declaration,  so  lamentably  true,  rang  in  my 
ears  as  with  abstracted  eyes  I  watched  the  train 
until  it  rounded  the  curve  and  vanished  into  the 
marshland. 

Then  I  turned  to  find  myself  again  the  only  pas- 
senger on  the  platform  and  the  station  master  stand- 
ing in  the  doorway,  his  face  wearing  the  same  ex- 
pression of  shrewd  curiosity  I  had  observed  on  it 
the  evening  of  my  arrival. 

"  Howdy  ?  "  he  said  cordially,  touching  his  cap. 
"  Your  frien'  got  an  early  start." 

I  assented. 

"N'  Yo'k?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Gol !  It  '11  be  derned  hot  there  to-day !  Live 
there?" 

"  Most  of  the  time.  He  will  be  out  to  see  me 
again  soon.  Winton  goes  ahead  of  New  York  at 
this  season." 

"You  bet  your  life!  I  s'ppose  you're  enji'- 
ing  yourself  up  to  Overlook?"  Button's  blue 
eyes  brimmed  over  with  curiosity  as  he  put  this 
question. 


BUTTON    GOSSIPS  123 

"  I  would  not  exchange  it  for  any  other  place 
that  I  know  of." 

"  Hum !  That  must  be  sayin'  a  good  deal/' 
dryly.  "  When  you  come  I  thought  you  'd  be  re- 
turnin'  about  now." 

"Why?" 

"  W-all,  I  thought  you  was  here  on  biz'ness 
that  would  n't  take  long,  for  one  reason.  I  did  n't 
take  much  stock  in  what  you  had  to  say  about  rentin* 
the  place.  Say,  sit  down  a  while  on  that  bench. 
It  'a  a  purty  nice  lookout  and  comfort'ble  enough 
till  the  sun  gets  over  the  high  mark." 

I  promptly  accepted  the  invitation,  and  we  seated 
ourselves  under  the  bow  window  of  the  ticket  office 
where  we  could  hear  the  click  of  the  telegraph 
instrument. 

"  There  's  another  train  along  'n  about  half  an 
hour,  an'  then  I  can  close  up  shop  an'  go  home  till 
about  noon.  'T  ain't  safe  to  be  away  when  the 
machine  in  there  's  liable  to  talk." 

He  declined  with  a  nod  the  cigar  I  held  out. 
"  A  pipe  's  the  only  thing  that  puts  me  right  with 
the  world,"  he  said.  He  filled  a  clay  specimen  and 
puffed  at  it  somewhat  surreptitiously,  prepared  to 
dispose  of  it  on  the  instant  of  another  arrival. 

There  was  a  pause. 

"  Curious,  ain't  it,"  he  remarked  presently, 
"  how  things  come  'round  a  man's  way  ?  Now,  when 
I  was  a  little  chap  I  1'arned  how  to  work  and  read 
that  little  talkin'  machine  in  there  just  fer  the  fun 
of  it  and,  w-all,  because,  too,  I  was  crazy  sot  about 
everythin'  that  had  t'  do  with  railroads.  Tele- 


124    THE   SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

graphs,  and  railroads,  too,  for  that  matter,  was  rare 
things  in  them  days  up  in  Vermont  where  I  come 
from.  Know  /  lived  up  to  Overlook  once  ?  " 

"  No.     When  was  that  ?  " 

"  Just  six  years  ago  last  June  it  was  I  left.  I 
used  to  take  hull  charge  of  the  grounds,  and  the 
sunken  gardens  was  my  pride,  now  I  tell  you.  The 
house  we  had  was  tore  down  when  old  Mr.  Somhers 
put  on  the  library.  He  let  all  the  help  go  that  year 
but  Arms,  who  was  farmer  then."  Hutton  paused 
to  meditate.  "  That  was  the  year  people  over  town 
way  would  have  it  Mr.  Somhers  was  crazy.  You 
see  he  got  workmen  from  Boston,  or  somewhere,  to 
do  his  job.  That  was  what  started  folks  a-talkin'. 
An',  then,  when  he  said  nobody  must  come  to  Over- 
look till  the  hull  work  was  done,  that  put  some  of 
the  finishin'  touches  on.  He  said  there  was  din-i- 
mite  aroun'  an'  he  would  n't  have  folks  blowed  up. 
Nobody  just  b'lieved  that  was  his  real  reason, 
though,  as  before  that  he  'd  been  so  liberal-like  with 
Overlook,  lettin'  anyone  that  wanted  to  go  all  over 
the  grounds.  Then,  when  Job  Peters  an'  his  son 
ventured  to  drive  in  there  one  evenin'  and  Mr, 
Somhers  flew  into  a  fit  about  it,  folks  just  knew  he 
was  off." 

"  All  this  happened  six  years  ago  when  he  added 
the  wing  that  is  now  the  library,  you  say  ?  Had  the 
house  only  one  wing  before  then  ?  " 

"  That 's  all ;  the  north  un.  Everybody  thought 
the  house  ware  big  enough  fer  them  two  —  just  the 
old  man  an'  Harry  —  as  't  was,  but  Mr.  Somhers 
said  that  when  the  gals  was  switchin'  about  doin' 


HUTTOX    GOSSIPS  125 

their  work  he  could  n't  hear  himself  think  —  he  was 
that  narvous  —  an'  he  'd  build  himself  a  room  where 
he  'd  not  hear  everythin'  a-goin'  on." 

"  He  got  a  fine  room  for  his  trouble.  I  dare  say 
you  saw  it  when  it  was  finished  ?  " 

"  No ;  I  never  did  that.  You  see  I  had  a  little 
trouble  with  Arms  before  I  left,  an'  I  never  thought 
seein'  that  room  inside  ware  wuth  goin'  to  see  him." 

"  I  went  to  see  him  the  other  day,  but  he  did  n't 
want  to  know  me,  it  appeared,  and  turned  me 
down." 

Button's  eyes  opened  wide. 

"  He  did !  "  he  cried  in  amazement.  "  Now, 
that 's  a  new  wrinkle  fer  Arms.  He 's  usually 
mighty  handy  in  takin'  up  with  newcomers,  though 
Lord  knows  he  's  grouchy  enough  most  times  with 
his  old  cronies."  He  paused  thoughtfully.  "  It 's 
that  five  thousand  maybe,"  he  continued  presently. 
"  You  know,  I  've  always  been  surprised  about  that 
leg'-a-cee,  fer  I  know  fer  a  fact  old  man  Somhers 
and  him  did  n't  get  along  good  together  for  a  long 
time  back  —  hardly  at  all  after  the  time  Jim  took 
Harry  over  to  O'Conner's  saloon  in  Clintonville. 
Gosh !  How  upsot  Mr.  Somhers  ware !  I  heard  a 
little  he  said  to  Jim  about  that,  an'  I  thought  he 
was  crazy  then." 

"  That  must  have  been  a  long  time  ago." 

"  Oh,  a  matter  'f  ten  or  'leven  years,  I  sh'd 
s'ppose.  I  allers  wondered  why  Mr.  Somhers  kept 
Jim  on  the  place  arter  that." 

I  wondered,  too.  That  must  have  been  in  the 
early  years  of  Arms'  reign  at  Overlook. 


126    THE   SNAKE  OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

I  said  tentatively: 

"  His  mother  and  sister  must  take  Jim's  ways 
to  heart;  they  seem  to  be  nice  women." 

"  Oh,  Maggie  an'  the  ol'  woman  're  all  right,  but 
's  fer  seein'  wrong  in  anythin'  Jim  does,  that 's  all 
bosh.  He  's  so  much  better  'n  the  ol'  one's  old  man 
ware,  accordin'  to  her  tell,  he 's  an  angel  beside 
him." 

"  There  are  two  kinds  of  angels,  I  was  taught." 

Hutton  looked  at  me  shrewdly  and  laughed.  At 
that  instant  the  telegraph  instrument  began  to  call 
and  at  the  same  time  a  carriage  drove  up  to  the  town 
side  of  the  station  with  a  number  of  passengers  for 
the  incoming  train,  and  Hutton  rose. 

"  You  bet  there  air,"  he  said  wisely  as  he  pocketed 
his  lighted  pipe.  "  But  angels  who  ha'  tied  up  all 
they  're  s'pposed  to  have  in  one  white  house  an'  a 
truck  farm  which  they  don't  work  enough  to  live 
off  'f ,  yet  have  rolls  o'  bills  —  an'  no  little  ones, 
neither  —  to  show  aroun'  an'  spend  every  little 
while,  don't  b'long  to  that  class  that 's  s'pposed  to 
wear  white  robes  and  play  on  gold  harps,  now  do 
they?" 


CHAPTER  XV 

WHO   IS    LA    COUE? 

TTTJTTON'S  gossip  gave  me  food  for  a  new 
-*-•*-  train  of  thought  as  I  jogged  into  the  village 
on  my  homeward  trip.  With  the  villagers  I  agreed, 
that  "  din-i-mite  "  about  was  scarcely  reason  enough 
for  Mr.  Somhers'  strenuous  objection  to  visitors  at 
the  time  the  south  wing  was  being  constructed,  but 
his  conduct  in  the  Peters  case  convinced  me  that 
if  the  old  gentleman  was  mad,  it  was  a  madness 
born  of  fear,  and  passed  with  the  completion  of 
the  addition. 

Such  a  supposition  led  to  but  one  conclusion: 
that  there  was  a  secret  in  the  construction  of  the 
wing  which  was  shared  with  him  and  the  stranger 
workmen  only  by  Arms  and,  quite  probably,  by  Mr. 
Milbrath.  That  Milbrath  should  be  a  confidant 
seemed  natural,  but  why  Arms  alone  of  the  five 
servants  ?  Why  were  the  others,  as  faithful  and  as 
long  in  Mr.  Somhers'  service,  dismissed  and  James 
Arms  retained  ?  A  new  hypothesis  for  Arms'  pres- 
ent conduct  began  to  shape  itself  in  my  mind. 

I  was  at  the  village  post  office  by  this  time,  and 
found  that  the  usual  number  of  idle  villagers 
adorned  the  piazza.  I  joined  the  loungers  and  hap- 
pened upon  a  scrap  of  information  that  I  decided 


might  be  turned  to  use  in  straightening  out  the 
tangled  web  I  had  in  hand. 

There  was  a  mysterious  stranger,  it  seemed,  who, 
according  to  rumor,  called  upon  Mr.  Somhers  on  the 
day  of  the  tragedy.  A  Beverly  hackman  of  the 
name  of  Jandyce  averred  that  he  had  driven  him 
to  the  gates  of  Overlook.  Mr.  Jandyce's  fare  was 
not,  however,  considered  by  the  intelligent  police 
of  Beverly  County  to  be  of  sufficient  importance 
to  look  up,  notwithstanding  the  emphatic  assertion 
of  the  house  servants  that  no  caller  was  admitted 
by  them  to  Overlook  on  the  day  of  the  murder.  In- 
deed, Mr.  Jandyce  was  not  called  upon  even  to  tell 
his  story  to  the  coroner's  jury,  and  my  informer 
surmised  that  the  reason  lay  in  Mr.  Jandyce's  ten- 
dency to  seek  the  sensational  and  to  tell  big  yarns 
when  under  the  influence  of  liquor. 

I  could  afford  to  pass  over  nothing  that  might 
lead  to  a  possible  working  theory.  Therefore  I  sent 
Gaspard  to  Beverly  on  Tuesday  to  interview  Jan- 
dyce. The  man  had  moved  to  Milton,  twenty  miles 
distant,  to  which  place  Gaspard  followed.  It  re- 
quired all  of  Gaspard's  finesse  and  a  fair-size  bank 
note  to  induce  Jandyce  to  talk,  for,  with  the  cun- 
ning of  the  ignorant,  he  became  immediately  sus- 
picious that  a  stranger  who  was  interested  in  his 
story  at  that  late  day  was  trying  to  involve  him  in 
some  way. 

My  emissary  obtained  the  information  that  the 
man  whom  Jandyce  brought  to  Overlook  on  that 
twelfth  of  October  was  of  medium  height,  in  figure 
not  unlike  Mr.  Somhers  and  with  a  mustache,  but 


WHO   IS    LA   COTJK?  129 

Jandyce  could  not  recall  of  what  color.  His  hat 
was  drawn  well  over  his  face  and  his  chin  was  so 
buried  in  his  muffler  (notwithstanding  the  season) 
that  Jandyce  got  little  idea  of  his  face.  He  left  the 
eastbound  afternoon  train  at  Beverly  and  entering 
Jandyce's  carriage  gave  an  order  to  be  driven  to 
Overlook.  At  the  gates  of  Overlook,  which  he 
seemed  to  know,  he  stopped  the  carriage  and  an- 
nounced that  he  would  walk  the  remaining  dis- 
tance. His  voice  was  that  of  a  gentleman  and, 
in  the  opinion  of  Jandyce,  he  was  "used  to 
orderin'." 

So  much  for  the  mysterious  visitor  to  Overlook, 
about  whom  I  resolved  to  learn  more,  if  possible, 
for  I  believed  that  he  existed  outside  the  fertile  im- 
agination of  Mr.  Jandyce.  I  admitted,  however, 
that  I  was  at  loss  how  to  proceed.  But  Fortune 
smiled  upon  me,  and  lent  a  helping  hand. 

I  was  driving  home  from  Beverly,  where  I  had 
been  to  consult  the  file  of  the  Dial  that  contained 
the  records  of  the  coroner's  inquest  following  Mr. 
Somhers'  death,  when  I  happened  upon  Dame  Arms 
plodding  along  on  foot  in  the  direction  that  I  was 
going.  There  was  no  footpath  at  that  point  and 
she  turned  out  of  the  road  to  let  me  pass.  The 
apple  bloom  in  her  withered  face  had  turned  to  a 
scarlet  that  was  beaded  with  perspiration,  but  she 
smiled  cheerfully  and  her  bright  eyes  took  on  a 
look  of  recognition. 

"  Let  me  give  you  a  lift,  Mrs.  Arms,"  I  said  as 
I  pulled  up.  "  We  seem  to  be  bound  in  the  same 
direction." 

9 


130    THE   SNAKE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

She  accepted  gratefully,  and  climbed  into  the 
runabout  nimbly,  considering  her  age,  laughing  and 
motioning  me  to  sit  back  when  I  attempted  to  assist 
her. 

"  Lor' !  but  hit  is  'ot !  "  she  remarked  as  we 
drove  on. 

"  How  does  it  happen  that  you  were  tramping 
the  road  so  far  from  home  on  such  a  hot  and  dusty 
day?"  I  asked. 

"  Well,  I  druv  into  town  wi'  Jim,  but  when  we 
got  there  'e  fell  in  wi'  some  cronies  an'  they  all  went 
t'  CHntonville,  which  meant  all  day,  and  happen  all 
night  in  town  fur  me  or  walk  'ome." 

I  felt  my  indignation  rising  against  Mrs.  Arms' 
dutiful  son,  and  I  expressed  it  in  words,  and  pretty 
forcibly,  perhaps. 

"  Jim  do  no'  mean  bad,  sir,"  she  said  in  a  con- 
ciliatory tone  when  I  had  done.  "  'E  only  do  no' 
think.  'E  ne'er  beat  me  yet,  nor  Maggie,  an'  lor' ! 
the  ol'  man  ne'er  come  near  withou'  givin'  one  or 
the  other  o'  us  a  whack,  hif  not  worse.  An'  more, 
Jim  's  a  good  boy  wi'  'is  money ;  we  ne'er  want  fur 
nothin',  Maggie  nor  me.  Ho,  no,  I  canrio'  complain 
o'  my  Jamie,  sir." 

I  saw  how  useless  was  indignation  against  the 
beloved  "  Jamie,"  and  I  envied  a  disposition  that 
could  make  so  much  of  the  good  in  a  being  and  pass 
over  with  such  charity  that  which  was  evil. 

My  mind  traveled  back  to  my  call  at  the  Arms 
cottage,  and  the  reception  given  me  by  its  lord  and 
master,  to  Maggie's  apprehensive  eyes,  and  to  my 
desire  to  know  whether  this  family  knew  more  of 


WHO   IS    LA    COUE?  131 

Mr.  Somhers'  death  than  the  world  believed  them 
to  know. 

"  Did  I  mention  the  other  day  that  I  came  very 
near  asking  you  to  take  me  to  board  ?  "  I  inquired, 
stretching  the  truth  to  open  the  subject. 

"  Lor',  no !  Ye  ha'  no'  enough  o'  Hoverlook  al- 
ready ? "  with  a  shrewd  glance. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mean  now.  But  when  I  was 
thinking  of  taking  Overlook  Mr.  Milbrath  sug- 
gested that  I  might  be  more  comfortable  with  you 
than  with  only  a  man  to  look  after  my  meals.  He 
thought  you  were  still  on  the  farm,  I  suppose." 

"  Well,  it 's  good  you  decided  no'  to  come,  sir, 
unless  ye  were  to  be  satisfied  with  Nannie  'Orsford's 
cookin',  fur  Jamie  's  put  'is  foot  down  on  my  takin' 
a  boarder  now  an'  again  save  't  is  Mr.  La  Cour. 
Says  'e  's  got  money  enough  to  keep  us  all,  an'  'e  '11 
no'  'ave  me  putterin'  'round.  Lor' !  /  canno'  see 
as  another  nor  two  'd  make  much  difference  —  since 
'e  's  'ere  so  much  anyway." 

"  Mr.  La  Cour,  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Aye,  sir,  a  crony  o'  Jim's  an'  a  fine  gentleman, 
too,  sir." 

"  A  Winton  man  ?     Or  Beverly,  perhaps  ?  " 

"  Ho,  no ;  from  the  city,  sir.  Ho !  Wot  'ave  I 
done!" 

The  tone  was  tragic,  and  involuntarily  I  drew 
to  a  standstill  as  I  looked  about  at  the  old  woman. 
Her  face  had  regained  its  normal  color,  or  was,  in- 
deed, a  tone  whiter  than  usual,  and  she  was  wring- 
ing her  hands  in  evident  distress. 

"  Has  something  happened  ?  "  I  questioned. 


132    THE   SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

"  I  shouldno'  'ave  spoken  about  Mr.  La  Cour,  sir, 
an'  I  beg  you  to  say  nothin'  about  'im  to  no  'un, 
least  of  all  to  Jamie  or  Maggie.  Will  ye  say  ye  will 
no',  sir?" 

Here  was  something  upon  which  I  had  not 
counted.  A  mystery !  Had  it  anything  to  do  with 
Maggie's  apprehensive  eyes,  with  Jim's  ungallant 
behavior  toward  me,  with  the  mystery  that  I  was  in 
Winton  to  solve  ? 

"  You  need  not  feel  distressed,  Mrs.  Arms,"  I 
said  after  a  second  of  rapid  thought.  "  Maggie  and 
Jim  shall  not  know  that  you  have  spoken,  and  as  I 
do  not  know  Mr.  La  Cour  I  shall  have  no  occasion 
to  mention  his  name  in  town." 

"  Nor  to  Master  'Arry  ?  "  Mrs.  Arms  questioned 
quickly,  and  added  reflectively,  "  but  'e  don'  know 
'im,  so  't  would  make  no  'arm  nor  no  good  there." 

It  seemed  best  to  change  the  subject  from  La 
Cour. 

"  You  knew  Mr.  Milbrath  for  a  good  many  years, 
I  suppose  ? " 

"  Sin'  'e  were  a  lad,  sir.  A  fine-faced  lad  'e 
were,  too.  It  went  'ard  wi'  my  feelin's,  sir,  when 
they  made  out  as  'e  'd  killed  the  hold  master." 

"  Surely  you  did  not  believe  that  he  did  it  ? " 

"  Ho  no,  sir,  not  at  first  —  not  at  all,  'appen.  But 
Jamie  says  there  can  be  na  doo'  about  it,  an'  Jamie 
should  know,  sir.  'E  'card  wot  were  said  in  the 
courtroom." 

She  looked  at  me  questioningly  at  first,  and  as  I 
said  nothing  the  expression  gradually  changed  to  a 
quizzical  look  which  seemed  like  the  reflection  of 


WHO   IS    LA   COUK?  133 

another  thought.  Perhaps  she  was  recalling  that  she 
had  heard  me  called  a  detective.  She  might  have 
said  more,  but  at  that  moment  we  came  to  the  drive 
that  led  from  the  road  to  the  Arms'  barn,  and  Mrs. 
Arms  became  insistent  that  I  should  drive  in  and 
stop  for  a  while  in  the  shade. 

"  Do,  now,"  she  said  coaxingly,  "  an'  Maggie 
shall  brew  ye  a  nip  o'  tea  to  make  ye  cool." 

So  I  turned  the  horse's  head  into  the  yard,  and  as 
I  did  so  Maggie,  who  was  sitting  upon  the  side 
steps  with  another  young  woman,  saw  who  it  was 
that  was  coming  in.  Instantly  her  light-hearted 
expression  changed  to  one  of  anxiety.  Her  com- 
panion noticed  the  change  and  looked  curiously  from 
Maggie  to  me  and  back  to  Maggie. 

"  What  have  I  done  to  make  your  daughter  afraid 
of  me?"  I  asked  Mrs.  Arms  bluntly  when  Maggie 
and  her  friend  had  departed  to  prepare  the  "  nip  o' 
tea." 

"  Afraid  o'  ye,  sir !  "  cried  Mrs.  Arms  in  sur- 
prise, and  then  looked  into  space  and  laughed  a 
little  consciously. 

"  It  is  na  that  she  's  afraid,  sir,"  she  said  after 
an  instant,  "  but  —  well,  'appen  I  might  as  well  tell 
ye.  She  's  got  it  shut  in  'er  'ead,  sir,  that  ye  're  a 
detective.  I  tol'  ye  she  were  different  from  any 
gaerl  I  ever  knew  —  all  narves  an'  fancies,  an' 
bein'  the  first  to  see  the  master  a-lying  dead,  she 
took  the  notion  they  'd  think  she  ha'  killed  'im. 
Why,  she  's  even  afraid  o'  Mr.  La  Cour.  Same  rea- 
son 's  far  's  I  can  make  out,  an'  'im  ere  all  the  time 
lately." 


134    THE   SNAKE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

I  thought  of  the  man  to  whom  Maggie  had  taken 
the  big  hat. 

"  Was  Mr.  La  Cour  here  the  other  day  when  I 
was  here  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Not  when  ye  were  here,  but  after.  Lor' !  'ere 
comes  Maggie  with  the  tea.  Not  a  word  about  'im, 
please ,  sir !  " 


CHAPTER   XVI 

AN    ALLY    GAINED 

T  LEFT  the  Arms  cottage  that  afternoon  with  my 
-•-  mind  in  a  curious  condition  of  conjecture  and 
question,  and  from  the  Overlook  stable  I  went  di- 
rectly to  the  boathouse  and  thence  upon  the  water, 
a  troll  line  trailing  from  the  stern  of  my  boat  and 
my  thinking  cap  well  adjusted.  I  pulled  into  the 
channel  and  permitted  the  boat  to  drift  as  I  turned 
over  in  my  mind  and  pieced  together  the  bits  of 
evidence  that  had  come  to  my  notice  in  the  past 
week. 

When  I  thought  again  of  my  troll  line  it  was 
more  than  an  hour  later,  and  a  hasty  examination 
showed  me  that  a  large  fish  must  have  nibbled 
freely  at  my  bait  —  so  freely,  indeed,  that  he  had 
carried  it  away,  hook  and  all !  But  I  had  tabulated 
a  few  facts  in  my  mind,  and  committed  them  to  my 
notebook.  These  are  what  they  were: 

1st.     A  secret  in  the  building  of  the  south  wing. 

2d.  Jim  Arms  held  power  over  Mr.  Somhers  before 
erection  of  wing;  therefore  was  not  discharged  with 
other  employees  when  wing  was  added. 

3d.  Same  power  over  Mr.  Somhers  which  kept 
Arms  at  Overlook  during  construction  of  addition  ex- 
plains Mr.  Somhers'  legacy  to  the  man. 

4th.  According  to  report  on  coroner's  inquest  in 
Beverly  Dial,  James  Arms  "  caught  a  ride  "  in  a  neigh- 


136    THE   SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

bor^s  wagon  into  Beverly  on  the  morning  preceding 
the  tragedy  at  Overlook,  and  from  there  was  seen  to 
board  a  train  for  Providence.  Not  proved  where  he 
was  at  hour  of  murder,  but,  according  to  his  oath,  he 
was  on  a  train  homeward  bound  between  the  hours  of 
five  and  six  o'clock,  and,  reaching  Beverly,  he  walked 
home,  arriving  there  about  seven  o'clock,  shortly  after 
the  body  of  Mr.  Somhers  was  found. 

5th.  Maggie  Arms  knows,  or  suspects,  who  killed 
Mr.  Somhers,  but  has  never  confided  facts,  or  fears,  to 
her  mother  —  unless  the  old  dame  is  a  mighty  good 
actress. 

6th.  Jim  Arms  harbors  "gentleman"  of  whose 
existence  no  one  outside  the  family  is  supposed  to 
know,  and  who  is,  perhaps,  the  source  of  the  ready 
money  which  Jim  is  reputed  to  display  and  boast  about. 

So  much  for  evidence.  Now  for  query  and 
speculation. 

What  is  the  secret  of  the  wing?  What  reason, 
indeed,  would  a  man  of  Mr.  Somhers'  character  have 
for  a  secret  that  could  be  shared  only  by  his  nephew, 
for  whom  he  was  believed  to  cherish  an  aversion,  and 
a  hired  man  whose  reputation,  at  best,  was  shady? 
Moreover,  how  could  that  hired  man  hold  an  axe, 
figuratively  speaking,  over  the  head  of  a  man  so 
upright  as  Peter  Somhers?  Although  a  retiring 
man,  his  daily  life  was  an  open  book,  and  his  dis- 
agreements with  his  nephew  were  the  only  features 
of  it  worthy  of  criticism. 

The  "  power "  must,  then,  have  been  held  on 
some  ground  which  Mr.  Somhers'  pride  magnified 
and  which  the  world  would  have  passed  over  with 
little  comment. 


AN    ALLY    GAINED  137 

It  was  quite  within  the  range  of  probability  that 
a  time  came  when  for  some  reason  Jim  Arms  was  in 
danger  of  losing  his  legacy,  his  profitable  berth  at 
Overlook,  or  both.  Would  he  hesitate,  in  such  cir- 
cumstances, to  put  an  end  to  his  employer  and  thus 
secure  the  legacy  and,  in  all  probability,  prolong  his 
service  at  Overlook?  From  what  I  had  seen  and 
heard  of  the  man  I  could  not  doubt  that  he  would 
endeavor  to  protect  his  own  interests  at  all  hazards. 

Granting  so  much,  was  it  probable  that  disguised 
he  was  the  man  Jandyce  brought  to  Overlook  ?  In 
build  he  might  answer  Jandyce's  description,  I  was 
not  sure,  but  could  he  possibly  assume  the  voice  of 
"  a  gentleman "  and  appear  like  one  "  used  to 
orderin'  ? " 

Granting,  however,  that  Jim  Arms  was  Jandyce's 
fare,  how  had  he  gained  admission  to  Overlook  with- 
out the  knowledge  of  the  servants  ?  Did  that  point 
explain  Maggie's  conduct  at  the  time  of  the  crime 
and  her  present  apprehensiveness  ?  Had  she  ad- 
mitted her  brother  to  Overlook,  whether  recognized 
by  her  at  the  time  or  not,  and  to  save  him  had  she 
later  sworn  falsely  that  she  admitted  no  one  that 
day  and  that  all  doors  were  locked  ? 

I  had  not  yet  fixed  La  Cour's  place,  that  is,  why 
he  was  apparently  in  hiding  when  in  Winton.  The 
thought  ran  through  my  mind  that  he  was  possibly 
connected  with  the  Somhers  case,  but  I  dismissed  it, 
after  a  little  reflection,  as  improbable.  More  likely 
he  was  a  "  gentleman  crook "  who  had,  by  some 
chance,  fallen  across  Arms'  path,  and  Arms,  true  to 
himself,  was  compelling  him  to  pay  for  silence.  Of 


138    THE   SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

him  I  should  try  to  learn  more  later,  as  well  as  of 
the  whereabouts  of  the  workmen  who  constructed 
the  south  wing. 

In  the  meantime  I  had  Horsford  to  deal  with, 
and  as  I  tied  my  boat  I  resolved  to  act  immediately 
and  force  his  allegiance  or  his  enmity.  As  soon 
as  I  had  eaten  my  solitary  supper,  therefore,  I 
sent  for  Horsford  and  asked  him  pointedly  what 
it  was  he  feared  that  I  would  learn. 

"  Me  ?  Fear  you  will  learn,  sir  ?  "  he  faltered 
with  an  effort  at  surprise,  but  I  could  see  in  his 
eyes  that  he  had  expected  and  feared  this  moment. 

"  Just  so,  Horsford." 

"  Wot  could  there  be,  sir  ?  You  know  my  life, 
sir?" 

"  I  know  what  you  have  told  me,  and  I  know  one 
thing  that  you  have  never  mentioned  to  me  —  Mrs. 
Horsford's  love  for  drink.  Is  there  anything  else  ?  " 

"  You  know  that,  sir !  You  know  it !  Ah !  you 
'ave  sent  fur  me  to  say  you  will  get  another  man.  I 
'ave  tol'  'er  it  would  come  to  this,  sir."  Despair 
was  written  on  the  man's  face  and  sounded  in  his 
voice. 

"  Is  there  no  way  to  make  her  straighten  up  ?  "  I 
asked. 

"  Only  to  keep  her  sister  away,  sir.  She  's  as  good 
a  wife  is  Nannie  as  man  could  ask  fur  when  she 
lets  speerets  alone." 

"  Is  there  no  way  that  you  can  suppress  this 
sister  —  get  her  out  of  the  way,  I  mean  ?  " 

Horsford  shook  his  head  doubtfully. 

"  Nannie  would  no'  'ear  to  no'  lettin'  'er  come, 


AN    ALLY    GAINED  139 

sir.  The  only  way  is  to  get  'er  away  from  these 
parts.  Tom,  'er  'usban',  'as  a  place  waiting  in  Min- 
nesota, an'  I  wish  to  God  'e  could  get  money  enough 
to  go  to  it,  sir !  " 

I  pondered  for  a  moment 

"  See  here,  Horsford,"  I  said  presently.  "  I  don't 
wish  to  let  you  go  if  we  can  get  on  together.  But 
you  must  admit  you  've  not  acted  very  friendly  since 
I  came.  If  you  've  got  anything  against  me  out  with 
it  and  I  '11  see  what  I  can  do  to  make  things  right." 

"  There  's  nothin'  at  all,  sir,  nothin'.  'T  was  only 
Nannie's  cups  as  made  me  fear  you,  sir,"  answered 
Horsford  earnestly.  "  But  that  hloomin'  Frenchie," 
he  added  with  sudden  warmth,  "  I  canno'  'ave  'im 
lingerin'  about !  " 

I  laughed. 

"  If  Gaspard  is  your  worst  enemy,  don't  trouble," 
I  said.  "  I  can  promise  that  henceforth  he  will 
transact  all  his  business  at  the  cottage  with  you. 
And  now  about  that  sister.  If  I  advance  the  money 
to  get  her  and  her  husband  to  Minnesota,  do  you 
think  I  shall  ever  see  it  again  ?  " 

"  I  '11  promise  you  that,  sir,"  Horsford  cried 
eagerly.  "  Tom  's  a  honest  man  —  an'  more,  I  '11 
see  that  it 's  made  good  to  you  in  time." 

So  we  arranged  that  matter  to  the  satisfaction  of 
both  of  us,  it  seemed ;  and,  as  I  dismissed  Horsford, 
who  was  quite  rejuvenated  with  relief  and  pleasure 
at  the  turn  affairs  had  taken,  I  remarked  casually: 

"  I  called  upon  your  cousin,  Mr.  Arms,  the  other 
day,  but  he  appeared  less  willing  to  be  friendly  than 
you.  Is  he  afraid  of  me  ?  " 


140    THE   SNARE  OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

Instantly  Horsford's  pleasant  expression  van- 
ished, and  his  eyes  narrowed  threateningly. 

"  'E  's  no'  t'  be  minded,  sir,"  he  said,  as  if  try- 
ing to  be  just  to  Arms,  "but  there!  I  'ave  been 
keepin'  from  you,"  he  added  in  a  sudden  burst. 
"  I  '11  stand  by  you,  sir,  now  that  you  've  been  good 
to  me  an'  mine,  an'  Jim  Harms,  who  ne'er  did  me 
aught  but  ill,  cousin  nor  no  cousin,  may  go  t'  the 
de'il !  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir.  'T  is  so  I  feel  about 
'im,  'owever,  as  them  who  knows  us  will  tell  you,  sir." 

I  could  have  shouted  with  joy  at  that  moment, 
for  I  knew  that  I  had  found  an  ally  in  Joseph  Hors- 
ford  and  that  his  acquaintance  with  his  cousin's 
habits  and  past  would  soon  be  my  knowledge,  if  I 
played  my  cards  skillfully. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  Mr.  Arms  ? "  I  asked 
as  unconcernedly  as  possible. 

"  'E  'a  a  bad  lot  through  an'  through,  that 's  all, 
sir.  He  tried  to  get  my  Nannie  away  from  me  first 
—  tellin'  'er  'ow  'e  'ad  a  stan'-in  wi'  Mr.  Somhers 
and  would  be  a  rich  man  before  long ;  that  was  when 
we  first  come  over,  sir,  afore  Mr.  Somhers  was 
killed.  Then,  when  'e  saw  'e  could  no'  get  'er  that 
way  'e  brought  'er  speerets,  which  'e  were  quick  to 
find  were  'er  weakness.  When  I  found  out  that  — 
which  were  after  we  come  to  Hoverlook  —  I  gave 
'im  a  thrashing,  'f  he  were  my  kin,  sir.  I  'ad  the 
best  of  'im  all  'round,  height  and  weight  and  muscle, 
fur  all  'e  is  so  broad,  an'  when  I  'd  done  wi'  'im  'e 
were  no'  much  to  see,  sir.  'E  let  Nannie  alone  after 
that,  but  'e  's  got  no  more  love  in  'is  'art  fur  me  nor 
I  'ave  for  'im." 


AN   ALLY   GAINED 

"  Who  is  the  man  who  stays  with  Anns  ? "  I 
asked  presently. 

Horsford  looked  puzzled. 

"  I  've  no'  'eard  of  a  man  stayin'  wi'  'im  since 
Mr.  Coles  was  there  last  summer." 

Mr.  Coles  was  the  detective  Milbrath  had  sent 
there. 

"  I  was  at  the  cottage  for  a  moment  this  after- 
noon. I  met  Mrs.  Arms  on  the  road  and  gave  her  a 
lift  in  the  runabout.  She  returned  the  compliment 
by  giving  me  some  tea  and  fruit  biscuits.  She  seems 
to  be  a  kindly  old  soul." 

"  She  is  that,  sir." 

"  And  the  girl  would  be  pretty  if  her  eyes  were 
not  so  scared." 

A  quicker  man  would  have  perceived  before  this 
my  purpose  in  all  this  talk,  but  Horsford,  I  found, 
was  too  simple-hearted  and  perhaps  too  heavy-witted 
to  detect  a  double  purpose. 

"  'Appen  I  do  no'  understand  what  you  mean  by 
Maggie's  eyes  being  scared,"  he  said. 

"  Perhaps  they  only  look  that  way  when  I  'm 
around.  She  acts  afraid  of  me,  too." 

Horsford  regarded  me  with  question,  but  made 
no  comment. 

"  Do  you  know  why  she  does  ? "  I  asked. 

"  I  think,  sir,  it  must  be  because  she  'as  an  id-ee 
in  the  first,  as  I  did,  sir,  that  you  were  a  detective." 

"  But  what  difference  should  that  make  to  her  ? 
She  has  done  nothing  to  be  taken  for." 

Silence. 

"  Has  she  ?  "  I  queried. 


142    THE   SNARE  OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

"  Ho,  no,  sir !  Maggie  is  a  good  gaerl.  But  she  'a 
been  ne'er  the  same  sin'  Mr.  Somhers  were  killed." 

"Why?" 

"  I  'm  not  certain,  sir.  'Er  mother  says  it  were 
the  start  it  gave  'er  narves,  but  sometimes " 

"Yes?" 

"  Sometimes  I  think  —  I  'ope  I  may  trust  these 
things  I  say  to  your  keepin',  sir  —  I  think  as  Jirfi  is 
hup  again'  the  law  somehow  —  all  the  money  'e  'as 
at  times,  and  the  rest  —  an'  'appen,  sir,  Maggie's 
narves  be  fur  'im." 

When  I  found  myself  again  alone  that  evening 
I  drew  forth  my  notebook  and  in  shorthand  made 
this  addition  to  my  tabulation  of  the  afternoon: 

Arms  boasted  a  few  months  previous  to  Mr.  Som- 
hers' death  that  he  would  be  a  "  rich  man  before  long." 

Horsford  proved  Arms  to  be  a  scoundrel. 

Horsford  believes  that  Maggie  may  suspect  her 
brother  of  being  "  up  again  "  the  law  somehow. 

I  fell  asleep  planning  how  to  secure  Horsford's 
cooperation  in  my  work  without  revealing  my  mis- 
sion to  him;  and  how  to  get  his  frankest  opinion 
about  the  mysterious  stranger;  the  probability  of 
Arms  having  possessed  a  secret  of  Mr.  Somhers' 
life;  and  the  chance  that  the  south  wing  held  a 
mystery. 

I  had  relinquished  the  theory  that  Horsford  was 
in  any  way  connected  with  the  warnings,  or  would 
know  of  them. 


CHAPTER    XVII 

INVOLVING   MILBEATH 

rilHE  next  day  I  drove  from  my  usual  morning 
-*-  visit  to  the  post  office  directly  to  the  Arms  cot- 
tage, ostensibly  to  inquire  whether  I  had  dropped 
a  certain  letter  there,  in  reality  to  surprise  Mr. 
La  Cour  if  he  chanced  to  be  there;  also  to  see 
whether  Arms  would  appear  any  more  friendly 
toward  me.  It  had  occurred  to  me  that  his  especially 
disagreeable  manner  on  the  occasion  of  my  previous 
call  might  be  due  to  La  Cour's  proximity.  I  came 
away  with  a  conviction  that  such  was  the  case. 
There  was  no  stranger  in  evidence,  and  Arms,  who 
was  lounging  on  the  side  porch,  was  grudgingly 
amiable. 

"  'Appen  ye  're  used  t'  the  ghosts  at  Hoverlook  ?  " 
he  remarked  with  a  leer. 

"  I  .'ve  seen  none  yet,"  I.  answered,  regarding  him 
steadily,  my  mind  running  to  the  warnings  and  to 
that  weird  cry.  I  should  have  to  abandon  the  no- 
tion that  this  man  wrote  the  warnings.  He  was 
cunning,  no  doubt,  but  not  clever.  But  did  he  know 
of  them  ?  He  continued  to  stare  at  me  sidewise  with 
an  impudent  smile. 

"  So?"  he  said  lazily.  "Well,  they  be  there  — 
or  it  be  there  —  for  I  've  seen  it  with  my  own  eyes, 


144    THE   SNAKE  OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

An'  see  'ere,  I  '11  just  give  ye  a  friendly  tip  that  it 
is  no'  to  be  laughed  at." 

"  You  appear  to  be  laughing  now  —  at  the  re- 
membrance." 

"Aye.  'Appen  't  is  no'  the  same  to  remember  's 
to  see,  's  'appen  ye  understand." 

"  Whose  ghost  is  it  ?  " 

Arms  looked  at  me  intently  with  a  curious  length- 
ening of  his  under  jaw. 

"  I  did  no'  stop  to  ask  it,  nor  no  more  will  ye. 
When  ye  see  it  I  shall  expect  to  'ear  that  Hoverlook 
is  to  let  again." 

"  Then  you  '11  expect  a  long  time !  "  I  snapped. 
"  I  'm  here  to  remain  as  long  as  I  please,  and  no 
visitation  is  going  to  budge  me.  If  it  becomes  nec- 
essary I  '11  have  out  the  whole  state  militia  to  pro- 
tect me,  but  stay  I  will !  " 

"The  de'il  ye  will!"  drawled  Arms.  "Well, 
I'm  no'  trying  to  make  ye  quit's  I  know  of,  so 
ye'r  blazes  is  wasted  on  me.  I  know  ye'r  brave 
's  a  lion,  of  course.  I  sh'd  e'en  s'ppose  young  Lord 
'Arry  'd  be  'ere  to  'elp  ye  keep  gay." 

He  flung  this  at  me  with  another  impudent  leer 
which  passed  instantly  into  a  curious  fixity  of 
glance,  and  I  took  it  to  mean  that  my  purpose  in 
Winton  was  no  secret  to  him. 

"  Mr.  Milbrath  is  in  Europe,"  I  said  with  a 
mental  modification  of  the  statement,  "or  his  com- 
pany would  be  agreeable." 

"  Sure  it  would.  Murderers  are  great  fur  their 
jolly  ways,  I  've  been  tol'.  But  'e  's  in  Europe  is  'e  ? 
Boats  go  quicker  'n  they  did  when  I  come  hover, 


INVOLVING   MILBKATH  145 

it  seems,  for  I  saw  Lord  'Airy  'ere  last  week,  nor 
my  name  is  no'  James  Harmes.  That  beard  o'  his 
do  no'  count  fur  nothin'  with  me." 

I  felt  as  if  I  had  received  a  blow. 

"  What  day  ? "  I  asked  involuntarily. 

"  Ho !  It 's  news  to  ye,  is  hit  ?  Well,  it  is  kind 
o'  me  to  tell  ye'r  lordship,  but  I  will.  'Appen  it 
were  the  first  day  ye  come  'ere,  or  the  next." 

"Where?" 

"  In  a  private  way  as  we  both  used  to  know  an' 
which  I  am  no'  tellin'  or  ye  'd  know  as  much.  See  ? 
But  'e  did  no'  see  me." 

I  turned  away  from  Arms  and  jumped  into  the 
runabout,  angry,  hurt  and  puzzled,  but  at  the  same 
instant  it  occurred  to  me  that  this  might  be  merely 
one  of  Arms'  tricks. 

I  turned  and  looked  at  him  as  I  reached  for  the 
reins.  He  was  grinning  under  his  week's  growth 
of  heavy  black  beard. 

"  Good  day,"  I  said  stiffly,  and  should  have 
started,  had  not  Dame  Arms  at  that  moment  ap- 
peared at  the  door. 

"  Ye  're  sure  not  a-goin'  wi'out  a  taste  o'  the  goose- 
berry wine !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  It 's  extra  good  this 
year." 

So  I  tarried  while  I  disposed  of  the  old  soul's 
offering. 

I  was  more  upset  by  Arms'  revelation  than  I  liked 
to  admit  to  myself.  While  confident  that  he  had  not 
written  the  warnings  himself,  I  was  not  so  certain 
that  he  had  not  delivered  them.  Could  they  be 
from  Milbrath,  after  all  ?  And  was  it  possible  that 

10 


146    THE   SNAKE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

some,  at  least,  of  Arms'  ready  money  was  pay  for 
their  delivery  ?  All  that  Kilbourne  had  said  or  inti- 
mated flooded  back  to  my  memory  to  poison  my 
mind.  I  would  have  parted  with  a  week's  salary  to 
have  had  Harrison  Milbrath  within  reach. 

In  this  pessimistic  and  uncomfortable  state  of 
mind  I  lunched,  and  then  lounged  out  to  the  portico. 
I  was  utterly  unfitted  for  successful  work,  and  the 
cool  breeze  from  the  bay  whispered  of  diversion  on 
the  dancing  waters.  I  thought  of  Dolly,  and  im- 
mediately I  wondered  whether  Mr.  McClure  en- 
joyed boating.  If  I  asked  Dolly  to  go  out  with 
me  would  I  have  to  include  the  grandpater  ? 

I  found  Mr.  McClure  stretched  on  a  rattan  couch 
on  the  veranda.  Beside  him  sat  Dolly,  smoothing 
his  thin  locks  from  his  forehead  with  a  touch  so 
tender  and  an  expression  so  affectionate  that  gladly 
would  I  have  taken  whatever  ailed  him  to  have  been 
the  subject  of  her  solicitude.  She  turned  slightly 
upon  my  approach  and,  with  a  smile,  laid  her  fore- 
finger warningly  upon  her  lips.  But  Mr.  McClure 
was  not  sleeping.  He  opened  his  eyes  and  seeing 
me  made  an  effort,  quickly  suppressed  by  Dolly, 
to  rise. 

"  See  to  what  tyranny  I  am  subjected,"  he 
grumbled  cheerfully.  "  My  headache  has  vanished 
under  the  influence  of  magic  fingers,  but  I  am  not 
permitted  to  '  rise  to  the  occasion.' ' 

"  Grandfather  has  been  a  very  sick  man  to-day," 
Dolly  informed  me  gravely.  "  He  is  subject  to  these 
attacks,  but  afterward  he  never  will  admit  that  they 
are  anything.  You  will  have  to  address  your  con- 


INVOLVING   MILBKATH  147 

versation  to  me,  Mr.  Bliss,  for  I  don't  mean  to  let 
grandfather  open  his  mouth  for  a  word." 

"  I  'am  merely  a  bird  of  passage,"  I  answered, 
"  and  am  not  to  be  persuaded  to  address  conversation 
to  anyone  on  land  for  more  than  five  minutes.  The 
waves  call  me,  and  I  ran  over  to  beg  you  and  Mr. 
McClure  to  let  me  take  you  rowing." 

In  Dolly's  mind  there  was  not  the  remotest  in- 
tention of  accepting  my  invitation.  I  knew  that 
much  at  once,  although  a  polite  and  convincing  ex- 
cuse sprang  to  her  lips.  But  Mr.  McClure  changed 
the  day  by  his  prompt  expression  of  pleasure. 

"  Just  the  thing !  "  he  cried.  "  Dolly  has  not  had 
her  usual  outing  to-day.  I  will  leave  her  wholly  to 
your  care,  Mr.  Bliss,  while  I  sleep  off  my  recent  re- 
minder of  mortal  frailty.  Run  along,  Dolly." 

"  Here  is  evidence  of  my  value  as  a  nurse,"  de- 
clared Dolly  playfully.  "  In  three  short  hours  my 
patient  has  sufficiently  recovered  to  wish  me  away ! " 

She  rescued  the  ubiquitous  sunbonnet  from  ob- 
livion beneath  a  scattering  of  papers  on  the  veranda 
table,  and  permitted  it  to  dangle  by  its  strings  from 
her  hand. 

"  Au  revoir,  grandfather,  dear,"  she  said  finally. 
"  Since  you  are  sending  me  away  from  you,  you 
must  spend  every  minute  in  sleep." 

She  tucked  a  linen  duster  about  the  old  man's 
long  and  lank  figure,  and,  stooping  quickly,  im- 
printed a  kiss  upon  his  cheek,  her  mood  changing  in 
an  instant  to  maternal  tenderness. 

He  smiled  and  patted  her  sunny  hair. 

"My  little  Dolly,"  he  murmured.     And  did  he 


148    THE   SNARE  OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

add,  or  was  it  only  in  my  imagination  that  I  heard : 
"My  poor  Dolly!" 

"  Since  it  is  decreed  that  I  am  to  be  a  helpless 
ladye  fair,  I  might  as  well  bow  gracefully  to  the  in- 
evitable," commented  Dolly,  after  lowering  herself 
into  the  green  and  red  boat  before  I  could  reach  her 
side  at  the  pier.  And  she  proceeded  to  establish 
herself  indolently  in  the  stern.  "  Please  bring  out 
your  good  cushions,  Mr.  Bliss.  I  don't  like  these 
excelsior  things." 

"  This  establishment  is  a  bachelor's ;  therefore 
uncomfortable,"  I  answered.  "  There  are  no  other 
cushions,  but  I  '11  give  you  my  coat." 

"  Thanks.  But  a  coat  would  n't  suit  me  at  all 
since  I  know  there  are  other  cushions.  Have  n't 
you  explored  the  cupboards  in  your  boathouse  ? " 

"  They  are  locked,"  I  ventured,  knowing  full  well 
what  a  young  woman  of  Miss  Dolly's  stamp  would 
think  of  such  an  answer,  "  and  I  have  n't  the  key. 
I  will  get  some  from  the  house.  You  will  please 
excuse  me  for  a  minute." 

"  But  I  won't  excuse  you.  There  are  plenty  of 
cushions  in  our  boathouse." 

"  Then  with  your  permission  I  will  bring  those. 
Is  the  door  unlocked  ?  " 

"  Quite  likely  —  but  I  don't  want  those  cushions. 
On  second  thought  I  don't  want  any  but  these,  which 
are  far  more  comfortable  than  I  dreamed." 

I  marveled  at  the  inconsistencies  of  the  feminine 
mind. 

"  Very  well,"  I  said  as  I  pounded  the  maligned 
cushions  into  a  reclining  seat  for  my  lady,  "  then 


INVOLVING   MILBRATH  149 

we  '11  make  a  start  if  you  say  so.  You  '11  lose  that 
sunbonnet  in  the  water  if  you  're  not  careful." 

"  How  dreadful  that  would  be !  To  avoid  such 
a  calamity,  I  '11  put  it  on."  She  tied  the  ends  of 
the  strings  at  her  throat  and  permitted  the  bonnet  to 
hang  on  her  shoulders  in  the  fashion  that  was  be- 
coming familiar  to  me. 

"  You  don't  know,  perhaps,  that  the  reason  I 
wear  this  absurdity  so  constantly,"  she  smiled  mis- 
chievously, "  is  because  my  '  complexion  '  is  being 
preserved  for  a  great  event.  According  to  my  god- 
mother I  'm  to  be  next  winter  what  old  Mr.  Hutton 
calls  a  '  sas-t-ty  '  girl.  She  says  "  —  Dolly's  face 
was  very  demure  —  "  that  I  'm  cut  out  for  one." 

"  Really?"  I  remarked,  regarding  her  with  amuse- 
ment, but  with  a  note,  nevertheless,  of  the  resolute 
small  chin.  "  I  fancy  you  would  be  rather  difficult 
to  'cut  out'  into  anything  you  did  n't  care  to  be." 

"  And  you  think  that  I  don't  care  for  a  gay  time 
—  such  as  other  girls  have  ?  " 

The  music  of  her  voice  changed  suddenly  with 
the  last  words,  and  the  pathos  that  crept  in  moved 
me  strangely  and  set  me  wondering. 

"  I  think  you  will  enjoy  anything  that  you  make 
up  your  mind  to  enjoy,  whether  it  be  ballroom  or 
baseball.  But  if  you  wish  my  opinion  as  to  whether 
it  is  the  life  you  would  most  enjoy,  I  might  as  well 
answer  at  once.  No ;  decidedly  no." 

A  curious  expression  played  across  the  girl's 
features. 

"  Please  tell  me  why,"  she  said. 

"  For  one  thing,  you  are  far  more  serious-minded 


150    THE   SNARE   OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

than  you  would  have  the  world  believe,"  I  answered, 
seizing  at  random  from  the  impressions  formed  by 
my  first  study  of  the  girl. 

"  Indeed !  "  mocked  Dolly,  but  she  flushed 
consciously. 

"  And,"  I  continued,  "  you  are  happier  when 
ministering  to  the  comforts  of  others;  a  frivolous, 
butterfly  existence  would  soon  weary  you  past  en- 
durance, if  it  attracts  you  even  now." 

Dolly  smiled  without  looking  at  me. 

"  It  looks  as  if  godmother  Foster  were  doomed  to 
another  disappointment,"  she  admitted,  "  for  I  be- 
lieve that  you  are  right.  Mrs.  Foster  is  the  only 
one  interested  in  the  matter,  you  see,  and  when  she 
gets  to  town  her  clubs  and  missions  and  receptions 
and  whist  demand  so  much  attention  that  I  have 
only  to  coax  grandfather  to  write  a  nice  letter  to  her 
to  the  effect  that  another  year's  work  is  really  needed 
to  make  my  music  worth  while,  and  back  comes  an 
answer  that  avers  that  by  another  winter  I  shall  be 
quite  hopeless  as  a  debutante,  but,  it  is  to  be  hoped, 
still  presentable;  and  inasmuch  as  Mr.  Foster  and 
she  realize  again  that  America  is  impossible  in 
winter  and  will  start  for  Egypt,  immediately  after 
the  holidays,  it  is,  perhaps,  as  well,  as  grandfather 
suggested,  that  I  apply  myself  to  music  for  another 
year."  Then  the  shadows  that  clouded  Dolly's  eyes 
a  moment  earlier  fled  before  the  contagion  of  her 
rippling  laugh. 

"  There ! "  I  cried,  "  I  am  constrained  to  say 
'didn't  I  tell  you  so?'" 

Nevertheless  it  seemed  to  me  curious  that  a  girl 


INVOLVING   MILBRATH  151 

like  Dolly,  endowed  by  nature  with  the  qualities 
that  make  social  success,  should  find  no  fascination 
in  the  thought  of  a  fashionable  life,  and  I  expressed 
myself  to  that  effect. 

Dolly,  gracefully  lolling  in  the  stern  of  the  boat, 
colored  vividly  and  adjusted  her  skirts  with  elab- 
orate care  before  she  answered. 

"  Well,  you  see,  I  was  not  trained  to  care.  A  life 
in  the  country  with  dear  old  granddad  does  not  tend 
to  things  frivolous.  Perhaps  I  should  see  things 
differently  if  he  had  not  needed  me  when  I  left 
school.  Then  I  felt  a  wee  bit  cheated,  I  '11  admit. 
Now  it  does  n't  seem  to  matter  —  I  must  be  getting 
old." 

"  As  old  as  Methuselah,"  I  agreed  banteringly. 
But  the  pathos  in  the  girl's  last  words  troubled  me. 
Again  her  voice  was  full  of  unshed  tears,  and  her 
eyes,  as  she  lifted  them  to  gaze  across  the  water 
took  on  an  expression  of  melancholy  that  I  had 
noticed  in  the  train.  Yes,  assuredly,  her  young 
life  had  seen  trouble,  and  the  wound  it  had  made, 
while  hidden  from  the  world,  still  stung  at  times. 

"  As  old  as  Methuselah,"  I  repeated,  "  come  to 
earth  again !  The  first  time  I  saw  you  in  Winton 
I  thought  that  you  might  be  as  much  as  twelve !  " 

Dimples  danced  suddenly  in  Dolly's  cheeks. 

"  When  you  tumbled  into  the  water  you  reminded 
me  of  my  twelve-year-old  cousin  Nan.  But  you  're 
not  Nan  by  a  mile.  From  that  hour  I  called  you 
Undine." 

"  I  hope  that  I  have  a  soul." 

"  No  one  would  question  it — and  a  heart." 


"  I  don't  wear  it  on  my  sleeve,  I  hope  ? " 

"  Sometimes  it  is  there.  I  think  Mr.  McClure 
could  pluck  it  off,  and  I  'm  certain  Prince  Charm- 
ing can  when  he  comes." 

Dolly  raised  her  eyes  to  mine  with  an  expression 
of  such  surprise  that  for  an  instant  I  thought  I  must 
have  hit  a  truth  unwittingly.  Then  she  laughed 
infectiously. 

"  Have  you  ever  happened  to  see  it  ? "  she  de- 
manded. 

"  Several  times,  but  it  was  clear  that  it  had  not 
presented  itself  for  me.  It  was  out  undisguised  and 
fearless  the  first  time  I  saw  you  —  the  very  first 
time." 

"  That  first  time !  When  I  distinguished  myself 
and  was  christened  '  Undine,'  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  When  you  journeyed  from  New  Haven  to  Win- 
ton  last  week." 

A  puzzled  wrinkle  drew  Dolly's  straight  brows. 

"  When  you  were  on  the  same  train  as  I  ?  " 

"  It  was  my  pleasure,  mademoiselle,"  I  answered 
in  elaborate  impersonation  of  Gaspard,  "  and  my 
sorry  fate  to  be  seen  and  immediately  forgotten." 

"  Dear  me !  What  a  pity  I  did  not  know. 
Grandpa  could  have  taken  you  up  in  the  phaeton 
when  he  met  me.  I  dare  say  you  had  to  go  up  with 
'  Hank  '  Hutton  ?  " 

"  Hank  Hutton  it  was." 

"  And  Hank 's  so  afraid  of  Overlook  after  dark, 
too!" 

"Doubtless  he  shares  the  common  superstition 
concerning  the  place.  It  doesn't  seem  possible, 


INVOLVING  MILBRATH  153 

however,  that  such  preposterous  notions  can  last. 
See  how  lovely  it  looks  now  with  the  shadows  on  it." 

We  were  well  across  the  bay  by  this  time,  and 
from  our  point  of  view  the  neck  of  land  on  which 
Winton  lay  appeared  uninhabited,  save  by  giant 
trees  and  a  church  spire  which  were  etched  upon  a 
cloud-fleeced  sky;  but  back  on  the  bluff  rose  Over- 
look, gray  and  quiet  in  her  lovely  grounds  —  too 
beautiful,  by  far,  to  be  shrouded  in  a  veil  of  mystery. 

Dolly  looked,  as  I  bade,  but  reluctantly,  and  the 
expression,  which  changed  her  to  a  serious  woman, 
again  deepened  in  her  eyes. 

"  You  know  that  the  villagers  call  it  the  '  Place 
of  Silence  '  ?  "  she  remarked. 

"  I  have  heard  it  referred  to  by  that  name.  Sug- 
gestive, is  it  not,  but  rough  on  the  place  ?  The  fact 
that  it  is  now  occupied  may  help  to  dislodge  some 
of  the  moss  of  superstition  (to  be  fanciful)  that  has 
been  flourishing  on  it ;  and  when  the  perpetrator  of 
that  atrocious  crime  is  finally  landed  it  ought  to 
recover  its  former  prestige." 


CHAPTEE   XVIII 

DOLLY   REVEALS    A    SECRET 

I  HAD  not  hoped  to  stir  Dolly  to  a  confidence.  It 
had  not,  indeed,  occurred  to  me  that  the  mat- 
ter which  had  brought  me  to  Winton  would  have 
for  her  any  greater  interest  than  would  the  myste- 
rious death  of  any  respected  neighbor.  My  words 
were  idle,  save,  perhaps,  for  the  hope  of  pleasing 
her,  for  the  more  sensible  Wintonites  could  but  de- 
plore the  unhappy  repute  into  which  their  choicest 
estate  had  fallen. 

To  my  surprise,  however,  Dolly  leaned  forward 
and  looked  directly  into  my  eyes  with  a  grave,  un- 
wavering glance. 

"  I  would  give  everything  I  have  in  the  world, 
Mr.  Bliss,  to  know  who  killed  Mr.  Somhers,"  she 
said  with  a  quiet  vehemence  that  startled  me.  "  You 
know  that  it  was  not  Harry  Milbrath  ? " 

I  thought  of  Jim  Arms'  insinuations,  of  my 
doubts  and  suspicions  of  the  morning.  But,  after 
all,  I  had  not,  even  then,  believed  for  a  moment 
that  Milbrath  was  the  man  I  sought. 

"  Yes,"  I  agreed.  "  Whoever  did  it  I  believe  that 
it  was  not  Harry  Milbrath." 

"  Or  done  with  his  knowledge,"  persisted  Dolly. 

"  Or  done  with  his  knowledge." 


DOLLY   KEVEALS   A   SECKET      155 

Dolly's  eyes  suddenly  glistened  with  the  moisture 
of  unshed  tears,  and,  in  spite  of  a  brave  effort  to 
smile,  she  had  to  turn  away  for  a  moment. 

When  she  spoke  again  there  was  a  note  of  con- 
fiding appeal  in  her  voice. 

"  Mr.  Bliss,"  she  said,  "  has  it  occurred  to  you 
that  the  criminal's  motive  was  to  injure  Harry? " 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  realizing  that  she  must  know 
why  I  was  in  Winton,  "  that  possibility  has  been  one 
of  my  theories,  but  I  can  find  no  motive  strong 
enough.  Mr.  Milbrath  seems  to  have  had  no  ene- 
mies up  to  the  time  of  the  tragedy." 

"  Then  you  do  not  know  of  Jim  Arms  ?  " 

The  start  I  gave  rocked  the  boat. 

"  I  do  know  Arms.  That  is,  I  Ve  spoken  with 
him  twice,  but  I  have  found  no  evidence  that  he 
was  Mr.  Milbrath's  enemy." 

"  He  was,"  said  Dolly  with  conviction,  and  her 
cheeks  became  very  pink,  "  and  he  is.  At  the  cor- 
oner's inquest  he  swore  to  the  most  damaging  evi- 
dence, and  there  was  only  a  little  of  it  —  such  a  very 
little  of  it  —  true.  You  know  what  Tennyson  says 

«/  €/ 

about  a  lie  that  is  all  a  lie ;  it  can  be  met  and  fought 
with  outright.  l  But  a  lie  that  is  part  a  truth  is  a 
harder  matter  to  fight.'  That  was  the  case  with  the 
testimony  of  Jim  Arms ;  only  the  truthful  part  was 
so  exceedingly  small.  Now  that  he  has  convicted 
Harry  to  a  living  death  he  is  not  content.  He  dares 
to  sneer  at  him  and  to  say  that  he  sees  him  sneaking 
around  here  at  times." 

"  And  in  that  he  lies  ?  "  I  asked  eagerly. 

Dolly  did  not  look  at  me.     Her  eyes  were  upon 


156    THE   SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

her  wet  hand  magnified  in  the  water.    And  she  did 
not  answer. 

"  It  is  a  lie  ? "  I  asked  again,  and  felt  my  heart 
chilling. 

"  It  is  not  all  the  truth.  Harry  never  was  or 
could  be  a  sneak.  But  yes ;  he  has  been  in  Winton 
and  at  Red  Gables  between  trains  a  few  times  this 
summer.  He  thought  himself  unrecognized.  Oh, 
Mr.  Bliss,  I  should  not  have  told  you  this !  It  can- 
not help  you,  and  —  Grandfather  knows,  of  course, 
but  the  village  must  not,  must  not.  I  hope  you 
understand  ?  " 

I  thought  that  I  understood.  At  that  moment 
there  was  no  question  in  my  mind  as  to  the  story 
those  scarlet  cheeks  and  lowered  eyelids,  and  sweet, 
tremulous  lips  betrayed.  I  only  wondered  that  I 
had  not  thought  of  it  before ;  the  most  natural  story 
in  the  world :  a  boy  and  girl  love  that  had  not  died 
with  the  passing  of  time,  with  trouble,  or  with  dis- 
grace that  had  come  to  one  of  them.  And  suddenly 
I  knew  whose  boyish  face  it  was  in  the  little  heart- 
shaped  locket  that  I  had  found,  and  which  was 
Dolly's  constant  companion. 

That  moment  also  brought  to  me  another  revela- 
tion —  a  glimpse  of  my  own  heart,  and  a  recogni- 
tion of  the  thrust  that  it  had  just  received. 

The  oars  swung  in  their  locks  beneath  my  yield- 
ing hands,  and,  with  the  falling  tide,  the  boat  drifted 
into  the  channel.  My  fingers  felt  suddenly  parched 
and  I  trailed  them  in  the  water.  Just  before  me 
was  Dolly's  hand,  slender,  pink,  exquisite.  I  longed 
to  seize  it  in  my  own  and  pour  out  to  her  the  words 


DOLLY   KEVEALS   A    SECRET      157 

of  passion  that  came  from  my  heart  and  were  stifling 
me.  But  the  shades  of  my  Scotch  ancestors  re- 
strained me  from  that  midsummer  madness;  and, 
presently,  I  found  that  the  hot  blood  had  gone  from 
my  head,  the  sharp  pain  from  my  heart.  After 
all,  since  I  could  not  claim  the  prize,  why  should 
I  not  rejoice  that  it  had  gone  to  one  so  needy  at 
that  time  and,  doubtless,  so  worthy  as  Harrison 
Milbrath  ? 

My  thoughts  passed  from  personalities  to  the 
broader  matters  that  I  had  in  hand.  I  wanted  to 
ask  when  it  was  that  Milbrath  had  been  in  Winton ; 
the  thought  of  those  warnings  haunted  me.  But 
I  could  not  bring  myself  to  put  a  question  that 
would  perhaps  involve  an  explanation.  Instead  I 
said: 

"  Would  Jim  Arms'  feeling  against  Mr.  Milbrath 
carry  him  to  such  a  length  as  to  kill  his  own 
benefactor  ? " 

Dolly  nodded  emphatically. 

"  He  knew  about  the  legacy,  you  see.  He  boasted 
about  it  in  town.  Five  thousand  dollars  at  one  time 
seemed  like  such  a  lot  of  money  to  him.  Besides, 
he  was  in  danger  of  losing  his  place  and  quite  likely 
the  legacy,  you  know." 

"Ah!    I  did  not  know." 

"  Did  n't  Harry  tell  you  —  of  what  happened  a 
few  days  before  the  murder,  I  mean  ? " 

"  I  don't  recall  that  he  did,"  I  said. 

Dolly  looked  disturbed  and  unhappy. 

"  Then  I  cannot,"  she  said  briefly.  "  Oh !  Why 
will  Harry  stand  in  his  own  light  so  persistently! 


Write  and  tell  him  what  I  have  said  and  ask  him 
to  tell  you  all." 

"  If  he  will  not,  for  his  sake  I  think  that  you 
should." 

"  How  can  I  since  he  has  asked  me  to  say  nothing 
about  it  ?  If  he  will  not  —  as  you  should  know  — 
perhaps  grandfather  will.  But  please  write  to 
Harry." 

"  I  will,  to-night.  But  now  tell  me  what  set 
Arms  against  Mr.  Milbrath  ?  " 

Dolly  pondered  the  matter  for  a  moment. 

"  The  beginning,  I  suppose,  was  when  he  took 
Harry  to  a  saloon  in  Clintonville  and  practically 
forced  him  to  drink.  For  days  and  days  Harry  was 
sick  after  that  and,  in  the  end,  told  his  uncle  all 
about  it.  Jim  never  forgave  him  for  '  squealing/ 
as  he  called  it,  for  he  nearly  lost  his  place  then,  and 
from  that  time  on  he  tried  in  various  underhanded 
ways  to  injure  Harry.  But  the  climax  came  when 
Harry  detected —  Oh,  that  is  the  thing  I  cannot 
tell  you!  But  this  much  I  can  say:  at  that  time 
Jim  swore  that  he  would  get  '  even '  with  Harry  if 
it  cost  him  his  life.  And  he  has  a  vindictive  dispo- 
sition, you  know." 

"  Do  you  really  believe  that  was  more  than  an 
idle  threat  in  a  moment  of  anger  ?  Surely  Mr.  Mil- 
brath would  not  keep  from  me  any  facts  that  he 
considered  important." 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  Dolly  wisely.  "You  little 
know  Harry  if  you  do  not  understand  that  he  will 
put  no  one  under  suspicion  without  good  reason, 
and  his  definition  of  '  good  reason  '  and  mine  differ. 


DOLLY   REVEALS   A    SECRET      159 

He  has  suffered  so  much  himself  and  is  so  noble, 
he  gives  everyone  the  benefit  of  the  doubt  —  if  there 
is  one.  Nevertheless,  I  know  for  a  fact  that  in  his 
mind  he  does  not  believe  in  the  complete  innocence 
of  Jim  Arms." 

"  Was  there  no  one  to  give  this  evidence  at  which 
you  hint  at  the  inquest  ?  " 

"  There  were  few  who  understood  how  Jim  felt 
toward  Harry,  and  no  one,  then,  besides  myself  who 
knew  of  his  threats.  I  could  have  testified,  of 
course,  but  Harry  would  not  consent  to  bring  me 
into  the  case  "  —  her  voice  shook  a  little  —  "  even 
to  —  save  him.  After  he  was  held  by  the  coroner, 
even,  he  would  let  me  say  nothing,  for  he  felt  that 
the  charge  was  too  preposterous  to  hurt  him." 

"  And  after  the  first  trial  ?  " 

"  Then  he  knew  that  he  could  still  prove  an  alibi, 
but  his  spirit  was  broken,  and  he  felt  that  unless  he 
could  find  the  really  guilty  one  nothing  would  avail. 
Oh,  Mr.  Bliss !  Sometimes  it  maddens  me  to  think 
that  if  at  the  very  first  I  had  resisted  Harry's  argu- 
ments and  had  told  all  that  I  could  have  told,  a 
cloud  of  suspicion  would  not  be  hanging  over  him 
to-day.  Now  the  days  and  months  and  years  are 
passing  and  we  seem  just  as  far  as  ever  from  finding 
who  is  to  blame,  who  is  responsible  for  these  blighted 
years  and  heartaches !  " 

The  intensity  of  this  unexpected  outburst  shook 
my  heartstrings.  How  I  wished  in  that  moment 
that  the  interest  that  Dolly  had  awakened  in  me 
were  of  the  kind  that  Plato  advocated,  or  that  I  had 
the  right  —  of  a  brother,  even  —  to  comfort  her ! 


160    THE  SNAKE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

The  feeling  of  irritation  and  suspicion  against 
Milbrath  which  had  grown  on  me  during  the  morn- 
ing was  augmented  by  Dolly's  admission  of  his 
visits  to  Winton;  and  her  assertion  of  evidence 
against  Arms,  which  he  had  failed  to  tell  me,  roused 
the  belief  that  he  had  done  so  intentionally  and  en- 
couraged the  hateful  conclusion  that  he  was  not 
dealing  openly  with  me.  All  these  emotions  were, 
however,  swept  away  for  the  moment  by  Dolly's 
tragic  accents.  My  one  thought  became  a  wish  to 
encourage  and  help  her. 

"  You  know  why  I  am  at  Overlook  ?  "  I  asked. 

Dolly  raised  her  eyes  and  looked  at  me  through 
glistening  lashes. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  simply. 

"  Then  let  me  say  that  although  the  incentive 
seemed  sufficient  before,  my  resolve  to  detect  Mr. 
Somhers'  slayer  has  received  fresh  stimulus  this 
afternoon,  and  if  wisdom  is  given  me  to  succeed, 
Harrison  Milbrath  shall  soon  be  wholly  vindicated." 

Dolly's  lips  moved  as  if  to  speak,  but  though  no 
words  came,  remembrance  of  the  smile  that  glad- 
dened her  face  at  that  moment  lent  me  courage  to 
go  on  in  many  a  disheartening  hour  in  the  days  that 
followed. 

I  turned  the  boat  toward  home.  The  sun  was  well 
behind  the  tree-tops  on  the  bluff  when  we  neared  the 
Overlook  pier.  Dolly  had  been  very  quiet  since 
her  pathetic  outburst  of  a  half  hour  earlier,  and  now 
she  sat  in  the  stern  graceful,  dignified,  lady-like, 
waiting  for  me  to  bring  the  boat  alongside  and  help 
her  ashore. 


As  I  reached  for  the  line  that  moored  the  boat 
I  heard  a  door  close  softly,  and,  looking  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  sound,  I  perceived  a  man  disappearing 
in  the  shrubbery  at  the  foot  of  the  bluff.  Inquir- 
ingly I  turned  to  Dolly,  and  observed  that  the  color 
had  left  her  face.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  in  the  direc- 
tion taken  by  the  man  with  a  sort  of  fascinated 
anxiety. 

"  Do  you  know  who  it  was  ? "  I  asked. 

She  shook  her  head,  but  not  convincingly. 

"  Then  if  you  will  excuse  me  for  a  moment  I 
will  follow  him.  I  wish  to  know  the  name  of  every 
stranger  who  comes  upon  these  grounds  while  I  am 
here." 

I  sprang  upon  the  pier,  and  extended  a  hand  to 
Dolly.  But  she  did  not  move. 

"  It  will  do  no  good  to  follow,"  she  said  wearily. 
"  Whoever  it  is,  he  will  have  no  difficulty  in 
all  that  brush  of  evading  you,  if  that  is  his 
desire." 

"  Very  likely  you  are  right ;  but  I  will  try  to  get 
him." 

Dolly  rose  languidly,  but  she  did  not  accept  my 
assistance. 

"  Go,  then,"  she  said.     "  I  will  wait  here." 

As  Dolly  predicted,  the  man  had  disappeared, 
and  I  felt  that  I  had  no  right  to  go  beyond  earshot 
of  the  girl  upon  the  pier.  So  I  returned,  feeling 
both  chagrined  and  annoyed  —  a  bit  with  her,  per- 
haps. Who  was  this  stranger  whose  coming  brought 
that  expression  into  Dolly's  eyes  ?  I  had  not  seen 
his  face,  but  he  was  tall,  heavily  built,  young  and, 

11 


162    THE   SNAKE   OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

I  judged  from  his  movements,  athletic.  By  Jove! 
He  was  like  Harrison  Milbrath! 

"  He  was  Mr.  Milbrath's  style,"  I  remarked,  my 
eyes  on  Dolly. 

She  flushed. 

"I  thought  so,  too,"  she  admitted,  "but  Harry 
sailed  for  Europe  to-day,  did  he  not  ? " 

"  He  was  to  have  done  so,  but  if  he  did  not  what 
is  his  purpose  in  coming  here  and  in  scampering 
away  like  a  criminal  when  he  is  seen  ?  " 

Dolly  made  no  response,  and  I  saw  that  even  her 
lips  were  white.  I  anathematized  myself  mentally 
for  a  brute,  but  I  could  find  no  words  to  mellow  the 
thought  I  had  expressed. 

Slowly  and  in  silence  we  followed  the  gravel  path 
that  climbed  the  bank.  At  the  gate  to  Red  Gables 
Dolly  paused. 

"  It  was  good  of  you  to  take  me  out,"  she  said 
smilingly,  and  I  noticed  that  her  face  had  recovered 
its  usual  equanimity,  "  but  I  shall  not  ask  you  to 
come  in  now.  It  is  better  for  grandfather  to  be 
alone  after  such  an  attack  as  he  had  this  morning. 
Come  to-morrow,"  and  she  extended  her  hand  as  she 
spoke. 

Even  as  I  said  my  adieux  I  formulated  a  plan 
for  action,  and  once  out  of  sight  of  the  girl  I  had 
left  I  almost  ran  to  the  house. 

"  Gaspard,"  I  cried,  "  put  a  saddle  on  the  mare 
and  be  ready  in  five  minutes  to  ride  into  town  for 
me.  Never  mind  dinner;  that  can  wait.  Hurry, 
now!" 

And  hurry  he  did,  for  within  the  time  I  gave 


DOLLY   EEVEALS   A    SECRET      163 

him  he  cantered  up  to  the  portico  entrance  and  I 
handed  him  two  telegrams  with  instructions  to  wait 
at  the  station  until  answers  arrived. 

Then  I  seated  myself  upon  the  portico  and 
scanned  as  much  of  the  grounds  as  were  visible  in 
the  hope  of  catching  another  glimpse  of  the  man 
who  had  evaded  me.  Horsford,  driving  the  cows 
in,  was,  however,  the  only  human  being  I  saw. 

Just  as  the  sinking  sun  set  ablaze  the  window 
panes  in  Beverly,  across  the  bay,  Gaspard  returned 
with  two  messages.  One  was  from  the  manager  of 
the  Oriental  Hotel  at  Manhattan  Beach,  whom  I 
knew  personally,  and  stated  that  Milbrath  had  left 
his  house  on  the  previous  day,  destination  unknown ; 
the  other,  signed  by  the  Cunard  Steamship  Com- 
pany, was  as  follows: 

"  Mr.  H.  Milbrath  on  the  21st  cancelled  his  book- 
ing for  passage  on  the  '  Umbria.' ' 


CHAPTER    XIX 

WARNED   AGAIN 

THE  effect  of  these  messages  was,  to  say  the 
least,  disquieting.  I  could  not  put  aside  Kil- 
bourne's  insinuation  that  Milbrath,  while  guiltless 
of  the  crime  against  his  uncle,  might  have  a  reason 
for  wishing  me  to  leave  Overlook,  and  by  anony- 
mous warnings  was  endeavoring  to  drive  me  away. 
On  the  other  hand,  Kilbourne  had  also  said  that 
when  I  found  the  one  who  uttered  that  weird  cry 
I  should  find  the  author  of  the  communications,  and, 
probably,  the  slayer  of  Peter  Somhers.  These  two 
remarks  were  inconsistent  in  appearance,  but  I  took 
it  that  the  latter  was  a  modification  of  the  former, 
which,  at  the  time,  I  had  regarded  as  of  little  value. 
Now,  however,  it  assumed  a  new  importance,  and 
the  notion  that  Milbrath's  reason  for  wanting  me 
to  leave  had  its  origin  in  the  secret  of  the  south  wing 
recurred  to  me  insistently. 

My  sleep  was  restless  and  unsatisfactory  that 
night.  I  dreamed  of  Milbrath  in  a  half  dozen  ways, 
but  the  only  tangible  recollection  of  my  dreams 
was  the  expression  of  his  face.  It  haunted  me 
for  hours,  and  it  was  with  a  heavy  heart  that  I 
started  out  after  breakfast  to  learn  something,  if 
possible,  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  the  men  who  had 
built  the  wing. 


WARNED    AGAIN  165 

From  the  "  faculty  "  I  learned  nothing,  and  had 
no  reward  for  two  hours  spent  in  lounging  and 
gossiping. 

Hutton  was  of  a  little  more  assistance,  hut  the 
help  he  offered  was  so  meager  that  the  hour  I  spent 
with  him  seemed  little  better  than  wasted.  Hutton 
knew  that  one  of  the  men  bore  the  name  of  John- 
son, and  that  was  all  that  he  did  know  about  the 
four  men  who  had  put  up  the  wing,  except  that 
all  of  them  came  from  "  Boston  way."  With  that 
information  I  had  to  be  content  for  the  time  being. 

A  train  for  Boston  left  Beverly  at  five  o'clock. 
I  resolved  to  go  up  at  that  time  and  try  my  skill 
at  getting  at  the  Johnson.  With  this  idea  in  mind 
I  returned  to  Overlook  just  in  time  for  lunch. 

As  I  seated  myself  at  the  table  I  observed  an  en- 
velope lying  face  downward  among  the  forks  and 
spoons  that  Gaspard  set  punctiliously  before  my 
place.  I  turned  it  over  and  found  thereon  one  word 
—  "  Bliss  "  —  printed  with  a  pen  in  finely  shaded 
old  English  letters.  It  was  unsealed  and  inside  was 
a  piece  of  ruled  paper  which  appeared  to  have 
been  cut  from  a  sheet  of  foolscap  such  as  I  had  re- 
ceived on  two  previous  occasions.  In  the  center  of 
this  neatly  cut  slip  were  pasted  two  printed 
clippings : 

"And  be  it  indeed  that  I  have  erred,  mine  error  re- 
maineth  with  myself. 

"  My  bone  cleaveth  to  my  skin  and  to  my  flesh,  and 
I  am  escaped  with  the  skin  of  my  teeth. 

"  Have  pity  upon  me !    Have  pity  upon  me ! " 


166    THE  SNAKE   OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

Underneath  was  penned  in  small,  old  English 
print:  "  Job,  xix,  4,  20,  21." 

At  that  moment  Gaspard  entered  the  room  with 
the  soup. 

"  Gaspard,"  I  said,  "  who  brought  this  note  that 
you  put  at  my  place  ?  " 

Gaspard  stared  at  me  in  amazement. 

"  Zee  note,  m'sieu  ?  "  he  queried.  "  I  put  no  note 
anywhere." 

"  Look  at  this  envelope,"  I  said.  "  Don't  you 
remember  that  ?  " 

"  I  do  not,  m'sieu.    I  haf  nefer  before  seen  eet." 

"  Has  anyone  been  to  the  house  this  morning  ? " 

"  Not  von  parson,  m'sieu." 

"  Then,  Gaspard,  some  one  has  crept  in  and  left 
this  here  —  right  here  at  my  place." 

"  Impos-e-ble,  m'sieu,"  declared  Gaspard  thought- 
fully. "  Zee  screen  doors  zay  fas'ened  vare,  even 
mine  in  zee  cuisine.  Does  m'sieu  recollect  zat  he 
must  vait  on  zee  portico  till  I  come  to  his  ring  ?  " 

That  was  true.  It  appeared  that  whoever  left 
the  note  was  now  in  the  house.  I  told  Gaspard  so 
much  and  directed  him  to  make  sure  whether  there 
were  any  door  or  window  open  or  unfastened  by 
which  an  intruder  could  have  entered  and  escaped. 

Before  I  had  done  with  the  soup  Gaspard  was 
back  to  report  that  everything  was  secure  on  the 
ground  floor.  It  seemed  farcical  to  search  the 
house,  but  it  was  the  only  way  that  I  could  satisfy 
myself  that  the  intruder  was  not  within  earshot. 
Leaving  Gaspard,  therefore,  still  on  guard  in  the 
hall,  I  went  through  each  room. 


WARNED    AGAIN  167 

There  was  no  one  on  the  ground  floor,  and  in  the 
second  story  only  those  rooms  used  as  sleeping 
rooms  were  unlocked.  I  carried  on  my  key  ring 
the  keys  to  the  others.  The  three  chambers  were 
without  tenant  save  myself,  and  the  attic  and  cellar 
doors  not  only  were  locked  but  were  bolted  on  the 
side  next  to  me.  On  the  whole  I  was  satisfied  that 
whoever  put  the  envelope  at  my  place  had  got  away 
again;  the  only  question  was  how?  An  agile  per- 
son might  have  climbed  a  portico  column  and  en- 
tered by  a  second  floor  window,  but  it  was  exceed- 
ingly improbable  and  I  abandoned  the  idea  as  soon 
as  I  found  that  the  dust  on  the  window  ledge  which 
had  been  protected  from  the  rain,  showed  no  traces 
of  recent  disturbance. 

But  two  logical  deductions  seemed  to  remain: 

1st.  That  Gaspard  was  mistaken  as  to  all  first 
floor  doors  and  screens  being  locked  during  the  fore- 
noon; 2d.  That  a  secret  door  existed. 

The  latter  might,  indeed,  be  the  explanation  of 
the  mystery  that  surrounded  the  building  of  the 
wing.  But  to  where  would  it  lead?  Obviously  to 
the  cellar  only,  unless  —  my  mind  flew  to  the  tiny 
passage  between  the  parlors  and  the  library.  I  had 
never  crossed  it  without  feeling  curious  as  to  why 
Mr.  Somhers  designed  it. 

I  dismissed  Gaspard  from  guard  with  instructions 
to  be  on  the  lookout  for  a  stranger  on  the  premises, 
and  began  an  examination  of  the  wall  space  in  the 
entry  which  was  paneled  and  might,  therefore,  easily 
secrete  a  door.  But  it  yielded  no  false  note  to  the 
tapping  which  I  gave  it  and  I  entered  the  library  to 


168    THE   SNARE   OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

see  whether  I  could  gain  anything  from  an  investi- 
gation from  that  side. 

As  I  have  said  elsewhere,  the  walls  of  the  library 
were  lined  with  built-in  bookcases.  Those  on  the 
north  wall  directly  to  the  right  of  the  door  I  hoped 
to  find  movable,  but  it  required  the  displacing  of 
only  one  row  of  books  for  me  to  see  the  wall  behind, 
and  the  way  the  shelves  were  cleated  into  it  con- 
vinced me  that  no  door  existed  there. 

I  did  not,  however,  feel  satisfied,  and  should  not 
until  I  could  account  for  the  four  feet  of  space  which 
extended  east  (and  back)  of  the  entry  between  the 
library  and  the  parlors.  Of  course  it  might  be 
simply  a  hollow,  walled-in  space  left  thus  for  the 
purpose  of  breaking  sound  between  the  main  house 
and  the  library. 

As  I  returned  the  books  to  their  places,  Gaspard 
came  to  announce  that  Horsford  was  without  with 
the  mower,  and  would  be  glad  to  have  me  give  him 
directions  as  to  trimming  the  edgae  of  the  walks. 
As  it  was  upon  my  instruction  that  Horsford  under- 
took the  work  that  particular  day,  I  could  not  con- 
sistently refuse  to  go  out  to  him.  I  went,  therefore, 
regretfully,  and  so  much  of  my  advice  did  Horsford 
seem  to  require  that  the  village  clock  struck  six  as 
I  turned  again  to  the  house. 

Just  as  I  reached  the  portico,  the  sullen-faced 
grandson  of  Hutton  drove  up.  He  brought  a  tele- 
gram from  Kilbourne  dated  from  Hartford  at  four 
o'clock  that  afternoon  announcing  that  he  would 
arrive  in  Winton  at  seven-thirty. 

Young  Hutton  was  as  uncommunicative  and  ap- 


WARNED   AGAIN  169 

parently  as  glad  to  get  away  from  Overlook  as  he 
had  been  on  the  evening  of  my  arrival,  and  he  left 
the  grounds  by  the  rear  drive  at  a  brisk  pace.  I 
watched  him  until  he  disappeared,  with  feelings  of 
amusement  and  contempt  Once  on  these  grounds 
had  been  his  home.  Here  he  had  played,  slept, 
eaten,  and  worked.  Now,  with  a  lively  conscious- 
ness that  no  lovelier  spot  existed  in  Winton,  he 
dreaded  to  approach  it,  in  fear  of  the  shadow  which 
rumor  had  given  this  place  of  silence. 

As  I  went  back  to  the  house  my  mind  returned  to 
Kilbourne's  message.  If  I  had  not,  long  before, 
ceased  to  be  surprised  by  anything  Kilbourne  did  I 
should  have  marveled  a  little  that  he  should  return 
so  unexpectedly.  Doubtless  the  inspiration  inter- 
rupted by  his  trip  to  Winton  had  failed  to  return  or 
had  been  "worked  off,"  and  the  heat  and  noise  of 
the  city  had  suddenly  become  intolerable  to  him. 
Then,  too,  he  might  retain  the  pleasant  memory  of 
Dolly's  smile  and  varying  moods.  If  that  were, 
indeed,  the  attraction  I  pitied  him,  for  no  longer 
had  I  the  slightest  doubt  that  Dolly's  heart  was 
already  preempted.  But  I  shook  my  head  at  the 
thought  that  Dolly  was  the  magnet  drawing  Kil- 
bourne back  to  Winton.  Too  often  had  I  witnessed 
the  antics  of  his  fickle  heart  to  give  Dolly  credit 
for  holding  it  for  five  consecutive  days. 

It  was  just  before  seven-thirty  when  I  reached  the 
Winton  station,  but  the  New  York  train  was  late 
and  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  possess  myself 
with  patience  until  its  arrival.  Hutton  was  in  his 
cubby-hole  inside  the  bow  window  and  seemed  to  be 


170    THE  SNAKE   OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

doing  a  thriving  business  for  Winton  in  the  ticket 
and  telegraph  trade,  so  I  made  myself  comfortable 
on  the  bench. 

The  sun  had  set  and  the  sky  was  a  deep,  dull  red 
above  the  lonely  stretches  of  marshland  which  I 
faced.  The  frogs  and  crickets  vied  with  one  another 
in  the  amount  of  monotonous  noise  they  could  yield, 
and  above  that  came  the  occasional  roar  of  the  surf 
as  it  beat  on  the  stony  beach  at  the  foot  of  the  marsh- 
lands. I  was  glad  when  Hutton  lounged  to  the 
window. 

"  This  has  been  what  you  might  call  workin'."  he 
observed  affably,  "'taint  of 'en  we  do  a  rush  busi- 
ness like  this." 

"  What 's  the  cause  to-day  ?  " 

"  Oh,  the  Methodis'  folks  up  at  Clintonville  had 
a  picnic  to  Beverly,  and  they  had  to  come  and  go 
by  Winton.  You  expectin'  somebody  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  the  man  who  went  away  on  Monday. 
Your  boy  brought  me  a  message." 

"  Oh !  "  Then  after  a  pause :  "  I  never  could 
see  why  folks  comin'  from  W  Yo'k  or  goin'  there 
sh'd  ever  go  by  Winton  when  the  line  that  goes 
through  Beverly  's  so  much  faster  and  no  change." 

"Well,  I  dare  say  the  hour  of  starting  has 
something  to  do  with  it." 

Hutton  stared  at  the  marshlands  abstractedly; 
then  he  began  to  chuckle. 

"  There  's  the  queerest  old  chap  comes  for  this 
train  sometimes.  He  's  more  'n  my  age,  I  sh'd  say, 
and  I  'm  past  sixty.  I  can't  think  where  he  comes 
from,  for  nobody  over  village  way  knows  him  or 


WARNED   AGAIN  171 

has  seen  him  so  far  's  I  've  found  out,  an'  usually 
he  pops  right  up  on  the  platform  here  as  'f  he 
come  up  through  the  b'ds.  I  s'ppose  he  gets  around 
the  deepot  quiet-like  before  I  see  him.  But  this 
time  he  come  at  noon  —  this  noon  just  as  the  train 
was  movin'  out.  Gosh !  if  that  old  feller  did  n't 
run  and  grab  onto  the  tail  end  of  the  train  and 
jerk  himself  up!  First  I  was  scared,  an'  then  I 
laffed  an'  laffed  so  I  could  sca'cely  lock  up  an'  go 
home.  You  wait  till  he  comes  aroun'  again.  I 
guess  I  '11  have  some  fun  with  him!  " 

"  Pretty  spry  for  an  old  man  ?  " 

"  You  bet !  I  'd  kinder  like  to  know  who  he  is 
and  where  he  comes  from.  He  's  no  farmer  nor 
country  man.  Yet  them  two  trains,  the  noon  one 
and  this  a-comin'  in  don't  touch  anywhere  but  vil- 
lages after  Hartford." 

"  Does  n't  it  connect  with  a  Boston  train  at  Lewis 
Junction  —  this  train,  I  mean  ?  " 

"  W-all,  yes,  and  that 's  where  he  says  he  goes. 
I  asked  him  once.  He  acted  kinder  mad.  '  Boston,' 
says  he  sharp  as  a  knife,  an'  I  dassen't  say  any  more 
then.  But  I  did  n't  b'lieve  him.  Nobody  that  can 
get  to  Beverly  comes  here  to  take  a  Boston  train. 
Some  time  I  '11  ask  the  conductor  —  if  I  ever  get  a 
chance.  You  see,  the  old  chap  never  bought  a 
ticket  o'  me." 

"What  does  he  look  like,  this  old  man?"  I 
asked. 

"  W-all,  he 's  a  little  more  hunched  in  the 
shoulders  than  I  be,  but  he  's  about  the  same  height, 
and  his  whiskers  all  over  his  face  is  gray." 


172    THE   SNARE   OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

A  vision  of  a  man  coming  toward  me  from  the 
chief's  room  as  I  sat  at  my  desk  in  the  reporters' 
corner  suddenly  floated  before  my  eyes. 

"Has  he  blue  eyes,  very  light  blue  eyes?"  I 
asked  involuntarily,  "  and  a  florid  skin  ?  " 

Hutton  regarded  me  with  surprise.  "  W-all,  I 
sh'd  say  likely,"  he  answered,  "  though  I  can't  say 
I  ever  paid  much  attention  to  them  points.  His 
pepperyness  is  what  struck  me  hardest.  You  know 
him?" 

"  I  suppose  not,  for  the  man  that  I  have  in  mind 
would  have  no  reason  to  come  to  Winton.  Ah, 
there  's  our  train,"  as  a  distant  locomotive  shriek 
broke  upon  the  air.  At  the  same  instant  the  tele- 
graph instrument  began  to  click,  and  the  party  of 
picnickers  gathered  together  their  boxes  and  bags. 

As  I  went  down  the  platform  to  meet  Kilbourne 
my  mind  was  in  a  whirl  with  the  new  suggestions 
that  rushed  in  upon  it,  but  above  all  vibrated  the 
thought  that  Philander  Summerfield  had  been  in 
Winton  that  morning.  And  why  ? 


CHAPTER     XX 

A    RESIGNATION    AND    A    REFUSAL 

TT'ILBOTIRNE  made  no  attempt  to  disguise  the 
-*•*-  reason  for  his  unexpected  return  to  Winton. 
Indeed,  before  we  reached  Overlook  he  frankly  de- 
clared that  since  Monday  he  had  thought  of  no  one 
and  of  nothing  but  Dolly  McClure.  He  manifested 
little  interest  in  my  affairs,  and  coolly  intimated 
that  he  had  come  to  make  me  a  visit  of  indefinite 
length. 

I  was  both  nettled  and  hurt  by  his  indifference, 
and  his  candor  was  the  only  thing  that  saved  the 
day  for  him.  I  never  could  quarrel  with  a  man 
who  was  absolutely  frank.  So  I  pocketed  my  wrath, 
made  no  comment  about  the  matters  uppermost  in 
my  mind,  and,  as  patiently  as  possible,  awaited  the 
turn  of  the  tide  in  his  affaire  de  cceur. 

When,  however,  Monday  arrived  without  any 
visible  change,  I  openly  rebelled  against  being 
towed  to  Red  Gables  twice  daily  to  sit  on  the  ve- 
randa and  talk  idly  with  Mr.  McClure,  or  join  him 
in  a  game  of  chess,  while  Kilbourne  entertained  the 
ofttimes  obviously  reluctant  Dolly.  As  we  smoked 
our  after-dinner  cigars  upon  the  portico  on  Monday 
evening,  therefore,  I  mentioned  casually  that  busi- 
ness connected  with  the  case  would  take  me  to  Bos- 
ton on  the  following  day. 

Kilbourne  regarded  me  with  absent  eyes. 


174    THE  SNAKE   OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

"Oh,"  he  said  presently,  "the  case.  Yes.  That 's 
all  right,  Bliss.  You  need  n't  apologize.  You  know 
that  it  is  not  your  attractive  personality  that  is 
holding  me  now.  I  '11  indulge  myself  in  that  later 
—  when  you  are  back  in  town  with  your  —  what  was 
it?  sixty  thousand  dollars!  By  the  way,  how  is 
the  case  coming  on  ? " 

"  As  well  as  can  be  expected,"  I  made  reply 
stiffly,  and  in  the  language  of  a  medical  man  dis- 
cussing a  disease. 

"  Oh !  "  commented  Kilbourne  again,  this  time, 
however,  with  a  sharp,  comprehensive  glance  at  me. 
"  I  see."  He  flung  away  the  end  of  his  cigar  and 
rose. 

"  Come,"  he  said.  "  Let  us  meander  into  the  sub- 
urbs," indicating  Red  Gables  with  his  thumb. 

"  Not  for  me,  thank  you.  I  think  I  '11  have  a 
row  on  the  bay  a  little  later.  There  's  a  clear  moon." 

"  Yes ;  I  had  observed.  I  was  wondering  a  mo- 
ment ago  how  Miss  Dolly  would  enjoy  an  hour  on 
the  water,"  and  Kilbourne  sauntered  away. 

I  watched  him  as  he  moved  slowly  across  the 
lawn,  and  marveled  that  such  a  combination  of 
acumen  and  dense  egotism  could  exist  in  any  one 
man.  Had  he  been  for  five  minutes  only  in  the 
company  of  a  couple  like  Dolly  McClure  and  himself 
he  would  have  known  that  Dolly's  interest  in  him 
was  merely  that  of  a  friend,  and  he  would  have 
regarded  his  own  confidence  and  high  spirits  as 
little  short  of  idiotic  blindness.  Nothing  that  I 
said  to  give  him  a  hint  of  what  I  believed  to  be  the 
girl's  true  condition  of  heart  made  the  slightest 


A  RESIGNATION  AND  A  REFUSAL    175 

impression  on  him,  and  he  intimated  gayly  that  I 
was  merely  green  with  envy.  The  name  of  Mil- 
brath  was  not  mentioned  between  us,  and  I  believe 
that  at  the  time  Kilbourne's  mind  never  associated 
Milbrath  with  Dolly. 

As  I  started  for  the  boathouse  Gaspard  came  up 
with  the  evening  mail.  One  letter,  addressed  in  a 
small,  cramped  hand,  was  postmarked  "  Boston," 
and  I  knew  from  whom  it  came  before  I  opened  it. 

I  had  done  some  hard  thinking  since  Friday  even- 
ing, piecing  out  another  theory  for  my  case;  or 
rather  another  part  to  the  one  already  on  the  car- 
pet. If  this  stranger  to  Winton  to  whom  Hutton 
referred  were  indeed  Philander  Summerfield  he, 
too,  was  involved  in  the  mystery,  notwithstand- 
ing the  fact  that  he  had  engaged  me  to  try  to 
solve  it. 

On  Saturday  I  found  an  excuse  to  see  Hutton 
again. 

"  Have  you  seen  your  old  man  since  Thursday  ?  " 
I  inquired. 

"  Nope.  Oh,  he  '11  not  be  around  this  way  for  a 
week  or  more,  likely.  Gosh !  I  bet  he  got  a  crick 
in  his  back  from  pullin'  himself  onto  that  train! 
You  sure  you  don't  know  him  ? " 

"  How  could  I  ?  The  man  his  description  fits  I 
never  saw  outside  New  York.  When  was  it  you 
first  saw  him  ?  " 

"  Oh,  some  time  ago  —  June,  I  guess." 

"  That  was  long  before  I  thought  of  coming  here. 
I  dare  say  he  has  friends  in  Winton.  Did  no  one 
ever  come  to  the  station  with  him  ? " 


176    THE   SNAKE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

"Nope." 

"  And  he  looks  like  no  one  you  ever  saw  ? " 

Hutton  shook  his  head. 

"  There  ain't  nobody  in  this  part  of  the  country 
like  him,  though  I  '11  be  switched  if  I  can  tell  what 
makes  the  difference.  'T  ain't  his  voice  nor  way  of 
speakin',  for  the  fust  time  he  said  a  word  —  Gosh ! 
if  I  did  n't  get  a  start !  Sounded  for  all  the  world 
like  old  man  Somhers.  Did  n't  know  Mr.  Somhers, 
did  you  ?  " 

"  I  knew  him  when  I  was  a  little  chap,"  and  I 
told  Hutton  a  little  about  that  early  acquaintance. 
"  But  I  cannot  recall  his  voice,"  I  concluded,  wish- 
ing with  all  my  heart  that  I  could. 

"  W-all,  I  can't  say  myself  exactly  how  't  waa  — 
kinder  quick  and  nervous-like  anyway." 

And  that  was  all  that  I  gained  from  Hutton  that 
day.  But  it  evolved  a  train  of  thought  that  found 
expression  in  the  following  letter,  which  I  mailed 
that  very  noon : 

MR.  PHILANDER  SUMMERFIELD, 

DEAR  SIR  :  My  investigations  have  led  me  to  a  point 
where  I  can  no  longer  act  honestly  in  your  interest  and 
be  justified  in  accepting  a  salary  from  you. 

I  shall  continue,  however,  to  probe  the  Somhers  mys- 
tery on  my  own  responsibility,  with  the  hope  of  obtain- 
ing ultimately  the  reward  offered  by  Mr.  Milbrath  for 
the  detection  of  his  uncle's  assassin. 

I  beg,  therefore,  that  you  release  me  from  the  agree- 
ment into  which  I  entered  with  you  on  August  16th. 
Very  truly, 

ELMER  BLISS. 


A  KESIGXATION  AND  A  EEFUSAL    177 

The  letter  which  Gaspard  handed  me  was  char- 
acteristic, it  seemed  to  me,  of  the  eccentric  writer. 
It  ran: 

MR.  ELMER  BLISS, 

MY  DEAR  YOUNG  MAN  :  Don't  be  idiotic  and  throw 
away  a  good  chance  to  make  a  fortune.  /  don't  care  a 
continental  if  you  make  two  of  them.  So  continue  to 
work  in  the  interest  of  that  young  scamp  Milbrath,  if 
you  see  fit,  as  well  as  in  mine. 

By  the  way,  did  you  intimate  that  you  think  you 
have  a  clue? 

PHILANDER  SUMMERFIELD. 

What  was  Mr.  Summerfield's  purpose  in  ignoring 
entirely  my  insinuation  that  I  believed  him  involved 
in  the  case  ?  Being  innocent  did  he  really  overlook 
what  I  intended  to  imply  and  regard  my  desire  to 
be  released  from  my  agreement  with  him  merely 
because  the  offer  made  by  Milbrath  appeared  more 
attractive?  Or,  being  guilty,  did  he  hope  to  blind 
me  by  an  assumption  of  innocence? 

In  either  case  I  was  resolved  to  free  myself  from 
him  and  be  able  to  work  irrespective  of  the  consider- 
ation that  he  was  my  employer.  If  he  proved  to  be 
in  nowise  involved  in  the  crime  or  connected  with 
my  anonymous  communications,  and  wished  to  re- 
ward me  in  case  of  my  success,  I  should  be  willing 
to  have  that  understanding;  and  I  returned  to  the 
house  and  at  once  wrote  a  letter  to  that  effect  to  Mr. 
Philander  Summerfield.  I  did  not,  in  so  many 
words,  tell  him  that  I  connected  him  with  the  case, 
but  I  explained  that  conditions  appeared  to  exist 

12 


178    THE   SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

that  made  it  undesirable  for  me  longer  to  accept  a 
weekly  salary  from  him,  and  said  that  I  wished  to 
work  independently  without  obligation  to  him. 

This  letter  I  put  in  my  pocket  to  mail  on  the  mor- 
row. Then  I  continued  my  way  to  the  beach. 

By  this  time  all  the  light  of  the  day  had  faded, 
and  the  moon,  almost  full  and  riding  well  up  in  a 
cloudless  sky,  illumined  the  earth  with  undimmed 
brightness.  I  could  see  every  tree  and  piece  of  statu- 
ary on  the  lawn  as  clearly  as  in  the  daylight. 

Suddenly  the  figure  of  a  man  passed  between  me 
and  the  bright  expanse  of  water  below.  It  paused, 
and  then  came  slowly  toward  me.  The  next  instant 
Harrison  Milbrath  and  I  stood  face  to  face. 


CHAPTEK   XXI 

MILBEATH'S  ADMISSION 

was  silence  for  the  space  of  a  breath. 
-*-    Then  Milbrath  spoke. 

"  Do  you  wonder  what  I  am  doing  here  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  You  were  to  go  abroad,"  I  faltered. 

"  That  was  my  intention,  but  there  is  no  place  like 
America,  after  all,  Mr.  Bliss,  and  no  friends  " 

"  Like  old  friends,"  I  finished  for  him  involun- 
tarily. Milbrath  strode  a  step  nearer  to  me,  which 
brought  him  into  the  full  light  of  the  moon,  and  put- 
ting both  hands  upon  my  shoulders,  he  looked  at 
me  searchingly. 

"  You  know  ?  "  he  queried. 

"  I  have  surmised,"  I  corrected. 

Milbrath's  arms  dropped  to  his  sides,  and  when 
he  spoke  again,  after  a  second,  it  was  on  a  different 
subject. 

"I  have  to  ask  your  pardon  for  slipping  away 
from  you  as  I  did  last  Thursday,"  he  said.  "  My 
conduct  on  that  day  was  unjustified,  though  at  the 
time  I  believed  it  to  be  right.  I  may  be  able  to 
explain  the  reason  for  it  ver/  soon,  but  until  then 
I  hope  that  my  admission  that  I  was  at  Overlook 
and  wished  to  leave  it  without  your  knowledge  that 
I  had  been  here  will  be  sufficient  to  restore  your 
confidence  in  me." 


180    THE   SNAKE   OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

"  I  do  not  forget,  Mr.  Milbrath,  that  I  am  your 
tenant  only  by  courtesy,  and  that  I  have  no  right 
to  question  the  reason  for  any  visit  you  may  choose 
to  make  to  Overlook,  or  the  way  that  you  make 
it.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  I  am  trying  to  work  in 
your  interest  on  a  case  that  is  peculiarly  baffling 
and  if  I  am  to  succeed  I  must  have  every  as- 
sistance that  you  can  give  me,  whether  or  not 
it  brings  to  my  knowledge  facts  that  you  and 
Mr.  Somhers  would  have  preferred  to  remain 
unrevealed." 

Milbrath  regarded  me  for  a  moment  in  mystified 
silence. 

"  It  sounds  momentous,"  he  said  presently,  "  but 
you  will  pardon  me  if  I  confess  that  I  do  not  get  its 
meaning." 

I  laughed  at  his  whimsical  gravity. 

"  But,  in  point  of  fact,  the  matter  is  not  one  to 
be  laughed  at,"  I  said.  "  My  residence  here  has 
brought  me  face  to  face  with  a  peculiar  condition 
of  affairs  in  which,  I  believe,  lies  the  solution  of 
Mr.  Somhers'  death.  There  are  some  points  on 
which  you,  perhaps,  can  shed  light.  Are  you  will- 
ing to  go  on  the  rack  for  a  few  minutes  and  let 
me  make  you  acquainted  with  the  conditions  by 
questions  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  In  the  first  place,  then,  whom  did  you  endeavor 
to  shield  that  evening  we  arranged  for  me  to  come 
here  when  I  asked  whether  you  ever  suspected  any- 
one of  killing  or  of  knowing  who  killed  your 
uncle  ?  " 


MILBRATH'S    ADMISSION  181 

"  I  shielded  no  one.  My  hesitation  at  that  mo- 
ment was  unfortunate." 

"  Biit  there  is  some  one  whom  once  you  sus- 
pected ? " 

"  Yes ;   but  I  have  been  proved  wrong." 

"Mr.  Milbrath,  I  must  know.  Whom  did  you 
suspect  ? " 

"  Jim  Arms." 

"  Ah !     Will  you  tell  me  why  ?  " 

"  May  I  have  your  assurance  of  secrecy  ?  I  have 
as  I  have  said,  proved  him  innocent  of  any  connec- 
tion with  the  crime,  and  though  he  is  a  worthless 
dog,  as  you  have  doubtless  found,  I  will  not  have 
his  name  entangled  now." 

"  You  can  depend  upon  my  discretion." 

"  It  was  in  this  way  —  a  somewhat  involved  tale. 
Two  nights  before  uncle's  murder  Jim  attempted 
to  rob  Overlook.  He  had  contracted  some  gambling 
debts  in  Clintonville  and  thought,  I  suppose,  to  rid 
himself  of  them  by  disposing  of  some  of  uncle's 
available  property.  I  surprised  him  in  the  dining 
room  ready  to  get  off  with  a  basket  full  of  silver 
plate.  He  would  have  killed  me  then  with  pleas- 
ure, but  I  reminded  him  that  shots  would  rouse  the 
household  and  that  his  chances  for  freedom  would 
be  slim  after  that.  He  was  never  one  to  face 
danger;  so  he  took  my  counsel,  as  I  knew  that  he 
would.  Nevertheless  he  swore  roundly  that  if  ever 
I  breathed  a  word  of  the  facts  he  'd  get  even  with 
me  if  it  cost  him  his  life.  I  paid  no  heed  to  his 
words,  of  course,  and  the  next  day  told  uncle  the 
whole  story." 


182    THE   SNARE   OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

"  How  did  Mr.  Somhers  take  the  information  ?  " 
I  asked,  thinking  of  the  influence  I  believed  Arms 
to  have  had  over  the  old  man. 

"  Coolly,  to  my  surprise.  '  He  's  a  rascal.  I 
know  that  already,'  was  his  only  comment.  I  felt 
indignant  at  uncle's  attitude,  naturally,  but  if  he 
cared  so  little  for  his  valuables  as  to  retain  the  man 
who  would  rob  him  of  them  it  was  none  of  my  busi- 
ness, now  was  it  ?  " 

"  Scarcely." 

"  But  I  wondered  then  as  I  had  wondered  before 
and  have  wondered  since,  why  in  the  deuce  uncle 
excused  everything  that  cur  did  and  kept  him  on  the 
place." 

"  Had  you  any  reason  to  think  that  Jim  feared 
he  would  lose  the  legacy  ?  " 

"  Yes.  The  evening  before  the  tragedy  I  was 
returning  home  from  Red  Gables,  and  as  I  ap- 
proached the  house  I  saw  Jim  standing  before  uncle 
in  the  library.  Uncle  was  prancing  about,  ap- 
parently in  high  temper,  and  one  of  the  windows 
being  open  I  distinctly  heard  him  exclaim :  '  That 's 
enough!  That's  enough!  Not  a  penny  of  my 
money  will  you  ever  get.  You've  tried  me  past 
endurance.  Go ! '  Whether  the  command  referred 
to  his  presence  in  the  room  or  to  his  discharge  from 
Overlook  I  had  no  way  of  knowing,  but  I  took  it 
to  mean  the  latter." 

"Naturally.  This  is  all  news  to  me,  but  it 
strengthens  the  circumstantial  evidence  that  I  have 
gathered  against  the  man." 

"  Discard  it  as  worthless.     It  will  only  lead  you 


MILBKATH'S    ADMISSION          183 

astray.  You  see,  I  have  gone  into  the  matter  pretty 
thoroughly  myself.  In  New  York  I  alluded  to 
another  investigation.  You  see,  I  clung  to  my 
theory.  Jim's  attitude  toward  me  and  Maggie's 
conduct  and  manner  of  testimony  strengthened  it. 
So,  when  I  was  finally  free,  I  engaged  Coles,  the 
famous  detective,  to  pass  himself  off  as  a  business 
man  on  a  vacation  and  get  board  with  Arms.  He 
lived  there  for  a  month  and  came  to  know  the  family 
intimately.  He  learned  most  of  Jim's  sins,  but  he 
came  away  convinced  that  while  Arms  professed  to 
believe  that  I  killed  my  uncle  he  did  not  really  be- 
lieve it  and  was  as  much  puzzled  as  anyone." 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  man  named  La  Cour  ?  " 
I  asked. 

Milbrath  shook  his  head. 

"  Some  blackguard  acquaintance  on  whom  Jim  is 
levying  blackmail,  no  doubt,"  he  said,  when  I  had 
told  him  what  I  knew  of  La  Cour.  "  By  the  way," 
he  added,  "  it  must  seem  queer  to  you  that  I  did  n't 
appear  to  know  that  Arms  was  no  longer  at  Over- 
look. I  did  know  it  once,  but  had  forgotten  it.  This 
property,  you  see,  has  been  in  the  hands  of  an 
agent  and  I  've  given  it  scarcely  a  thought.  I  must 
apologize  for  my  stupfdity." 

"  It  is  not  worth  mentioning.  I  am  glad  that 
Arms  is  not  here.  But  there  are  some  strictly  per- 
sonal matters  I  should  like  to  ask  you  about." 

Milbrath  looked  surprised. 

"  Ask  me  anything  you  like,"  he  said. 

"  Then  I  '11  go  to  the  point  at  once.  Where  were 
you  the  day  that  I  came  to  Winton  ? " 


184:    THE   SNAKE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

"  That  was  the  day  after  our  talk  at  the  Reform 
Club  ?  Let  me  see.  Why,  at  Manhattan  Beach.  I 
must  have  been  there,  for  I  returned  there  directly 
upon  leaving  you  and  remained  there  until  last 
Monday." 

"  I  received  a  letter  from  you  postmarked  '  Sta- 
tion F '  ? " 

"  I  sent  it  in  by  an  acquaintance." 

"  Arms  asserts  that  he  saw  you  here  about  that 
time." 

"  Then  Arms  is  either  mistaken  or  lies.  I  was 
here  two  days  before  I  saw  you,  and  again  last 
Thursday." 

"  Have  you  any  knowledge  of  the  authorship  of 
this  note,  or  how  it  came  to  me?"  and  I  handed 
him  the  first  warning. 

He  read  it  with  an  expression  of  growing  amaze- 
ment and  incredulity. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  was  sent  to  you  ?  "  he 
asked. 

I  explained  the  circumstances  of  its  receipt 

"  I  give  you  my  word  that  I  know  nothing  of  it. 
Why,  I  did  not  know,  even,  that  you  live  on  Forty- 
sixth  Street." 

"  So  I  believed.  Do  you  know,  then,  who  put 
this  upon  your  uncle's  library  table  the  morning 
after  my  arrival  in  Winton;  how  this  found  its 
way  to  my  suitcase  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day; 
or  how  this  came  to  be  at  my  place  upon  the  lunch 
table  last  Friday  noon?1'  And  I  laid  the  collection 
of  anonymous  notes  before  Milbrath. 

He  read   them  through   rapidly,   one   after   an- 


MILBRATH'S    ADMISSION  185 

other  by  the  light  of  some  burning  matches  that  I 
held  for  him.  He  went  through  them  a  second  time 
before  he  spoke. 

"  You  fancied  that  I  might  have  left  them  ?  "  he 
asked  presently. 

"  Never  until  Thursday,  when  I  believed  it  was 
you  who  slipped  away  at  sight  of  me." 

Milbrath  winced. 

"  Yes ;  I  know  that  my  conduct  had  a  suspicious 
look.  But  I  know  nothing  of  these.  What  reason 
could  you  assign  to  me  for  sending  you  such  — 
tommy  rot  ?  " 

"  I  thought  it  possible  that  you  were  in  possession 
of  the  secret  of  the  south  wing,  which  you  recalled 
after  giving  me  permission  to  come  here,  and  of 
which  you  wished  me  to  remain  in  ignorance,"  I 
said. 

"  The  secret  of  the  south  wing ! "  he  cried. 
"  The  south  wing  of  Overlook  ?  What  do  you 
mean  ? " 

I  recapitulated  shortly  the  facts  and  conjectures 
that  have  already  been  recorded. 

"  You  deduce,  then,  that  there  is  a  secret  door 
by  which  the  assassin  of  Uncle  Peter  made  his  es- 
cape, or  behind  which  he  hid  until  he  could  leave 
the  house  in  safety?  That  this  door  and  hidden 
room  are  connected  with  these  astonishing  commu- 
nications ? " 

"  That  is  my  belief." 

Milbrath  meditated,  and  then  shook  his  head. 

"  You  are  aware  of  no  secret  in  his  life,  no  ir- 
regularity which  would  make  it  desirable  for  him 


186    THE   SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

to  have  a  place  of  concealment  for,  perhaps,  papers 
or  documents  ?  " 

"  So  far  as  I  know  or  have  reason  to  believe 
Uncle  Peter  was  absolutely  upright  and  hon- 
orable. I  think  that  his  life  was  clean,  and, 
aside  from  his  outbursts  of  passion  with  me,  very 
placid." 

"  Were  not  those  outbursts  toward  you  —  er- 
ratic ? " 

Milbrath  smiled. 

"  I  used  to  think  so  sometimes.  I  confess  that 
a  few  times  I,  too,  went  so  far  as  to  think  him  mad, 
but  when  I  stopped  to  analyze  the  attack  I  invari- 
ably thought  differently.  Considering  his  feeling 
to\yard  me  I  think  he  was  almost  justified.  You 
see,  uncle  never  cared  for  me.  I  was  so  unfortu- 
nate as  to  be  the  child  of  his  only  sister  who  had 
been  a  source  of  irritation  to  him  from  her  earliest 
years.  She  was  many  years  younger  than  he,  and 
unwelcomed  by  him  at  her  birth.  Then  she  married 
a  man  whom  he  abhorred,  and  against  his  expressed 
wishes  —  for  he  was  her  guardian.  By  the  time 
my  father  died,  when  I  was  an  infant,  he  had  dissi- 
pated my  mother's  entire  fortune.  From  that  time 
mother  and  I  were  dependent  upon  the  bounty  of 
Uncle  Peter.  I  suppose  that  one  of  the  greatest 
crosses  of  his  life  was  to  bring  me  here  to  live  with 
him  when  mother  died.  He  was  a  man  of  such 
strong  dislikes  I  do  not  wonder  that  I  was  an  eye- 
sore to  him.  What  is  more,  I  was  a  little  imp,  and 
as  soon  as  I  found  that  uncle  disliked  me,  I  took 
pains  to  irritate  him." 


MILBRATH'S    ADMISSION          187 

"Did  such  a  condition  of  affairs  exist  up  to  the 
time  of  Mr.  Somhers'  death  ?  " 

"  There  was  a  little  difference.  I  had  perceived 
the  folly  of  trying  to  irritate  him,  and  had  learned 
to  contain  myself  under  any  circumstances  when 
with  him ;  hut  my  self-control  seemed  to  help  mat- 
ters very  little,  and  life  was  far  from  peaceful 
between  us." 

Milbrath  was  breaking  down  unconsciously  every 
sprout  of  theory  that  I  had  nurtured  and  raised. 
My  thoughts  turned  to  Philander  Summerfield,  who 
seemed  to  have  come  into  the  case  in  a  new  way. 

"  Had  Mr.  Somhers  a  brother  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes.     Uncle  Francis." 

"  Still  living,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no.     He  died  years  ago." 

"Did  he  leave  a  family?" 

"  He  was  a  bachelor." 

"  Was  there  a  resemblance  between  him  and  Mr. 
Somhers  ? " 

Milbrath  considered. 

"  He  was  shorter  and  fairer,  I  believe.  My  recol- 
lection of  him  is,  however,  rather  vague.  I  was 
only  a  little  chap  when  he  died." 

"  You  know  then,  that  he  died  ?  " 

Milbrath  regarded  me  with  amazement. 

"  I  have  seen  his  grave  in  Mt.  Auburn  several 
times,  and  I  remember  when  Uncle  Peter  went  to  the 
funeral  —  soon  after  I  came  to  live  in  Winton." 

"  There  was  nothing  in  this  brother's  life  that 
the  family  would  wish  to  conceal  ?  " 

"  Not  so  far  as  I  ever  heard.     Indeed,  I  never 


188    THE   SNAKE   OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

heard  much  about  him  in  any  way.  I  gathered 
somehow  that  relations  between  the  brothers  were 
somewhat  strained.  I  know  that  Uncle  Peter  was 
pretty  grouchy  when  it  came  to  paying  the  old  uncle's 
debts  after  his  death,  but  he  relented  and  put  a 
monument  over  the  grave.  Come,  Mr.  Bliss,  what 
card  are  you  holding?  Are  you  theorizing  that 
Uncle  Francis  is  still  alive  and  that  it  was  he  who 
killed  Uncle  Peter?" 

"  It  is  a  notion  too  fantastical,  perhaps,  to  call  a 
theory.  I  think,  however,  that  we  shall  find  a  con- 
nection between  this  Philander  Summerfield,  who 
engaged  me  to  come  here,  and  Mr.  Somhers'  death." 

Then  I  quoted  Hutton  as  to  the  similarity  of  voice 
between  the  curious  old  train-catcher  and  Mr.  Som- 
hers, and  I  added  that  the  description  of  the  man 
tallied  with  my  remembrance  of  Mr.  Summerfield. 

"  Granting,  however,"  I  went  on,  "  that  Francis 
Somhers  lived  instead  of  having  died  at  the  time 
you  supposed,  and  granting  also,  that  for  sufficient 
reasons  it  was  agreed  between  the  brothers  to  keep 
his  existence  a  secret,  we  have  a  plausible  hypothesis 
as  to  Mr.  Somhers'  death  and  the  present  curious 
conditions.  We  see,  then,  that  the  library,  hiding 
the  door  to  the  outside,  could  admit  this  brother 
unseen  and  unknown  to  every  one  but  Mr.  Peter 
Somhers;  and  because  he  is  the  one  who  knew 
the  secret  entrance,  and  because  bitter  disagree- 
ments seemed  to  be  a  feature  between  the  brothers, 
we  surmise  that  it  was  he  who,  in  a  moment  of 
anger,  became  an  assassin.  It  is  possible  that  hav- 
ing committed  a  crime,  he  longs  to  atone  for  it,  yet 


189 

has  not  the  moral  courage  to  give  himself  up  to  the 
law.  Having  engaged  me  to  discover  him  he  fears 
that  I  will  do  so,  and  endeavors,  by  intimidation,  to 
force  me  to  leave  the  place." 

Milbrath  smiled. 

"  I  wish  to  be  encouraging,  but " 

"  Yes ;  I  know.  It  sounds  fantastic more 

like  a  Frankenstein  tale  than  a  possibility.  I  am 
going  to  Boston  to-morrow  to  find,  if  I  can,  the 
workmen  who  put  up  the  south  wing.  My  idea 
has  been  that  the  secret  room  lies  between  the  li- 
brary and  the  parlors,  and  I  cannot  yet  understand 
why  four  by  six  feet  of  space  back  of  the  entry  was 
allowed  to  go  to  waste.  So  far,  however,  I  have 
not  been  able  to  find  a  place  where  the  walls  sound 
hollow." 

"  We  '11  tear  the  wing  down  if  you  say  so.  I 
should  prefer  it,  if  that  will  help  you." 

"  Not  unless  I  fail  in  Boston.  While  I  am  there 
I  mean  to  look  up  our  friend,  Summerfield.  I  have 
asked  him  to  release  me,  and  as  he  declines  to  do 
so  he  must  submit  to  whatever  investigation  turns 
his  way." 

"  I  should  like  to  join  you  in  the  trip  to  Boston, 
and  help  you  if  I  can.  I  will  act  under  your  in- 
structions." 

"  Good !  Can  you  start  on  the  eight  o'clock 
morning  train  ?  " 

Milbrath  hesitated.  "  I  fear  not,"  he  answered. 
"  There  is  a  purpose  in  my  trip  to  Winton  just 
now.  I  have  come,  indeed,  to  have  a  few  words  with 
Mr.  Kilbourne.  If  I  am  able  to  see  him  to-night 


190    THE  SNAKE   OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

I  will  accompany  you.  Otherwise  I  will  follow  on 
the  early  afternoon  train." 

In  the  ensuing  silence  it  came  to  me  suddenly 
why  Milbrath  was  in  Winton  to  see  Kilbourne. 
Dolly  had,  of  course,  sent  for  him  to  inform  Kil- 
bourne that,  as  the  prospective  Mrs.  Milbrath, 
she  could  no  longer  accept  the  ardent  attention 
which  Kilbourne  was  lavishing  upon  her.  In  that 
moment  there  was  no  question  in  my  mind  as  to 
Dolly's  relation  to  Milbrath. 

This  reverie  merged  —  as  we  smoked  in  intermit- 
ting silence  —  into  a  review  of  the  Somhers  case, 
and  a  new  point  came  to  me.  If  Philander  Summer- 
field  were,  indeed,  Francis  Somhers,  was  it  not 
probable  that  his  money  was  acquired  through  Peter 
Somhers?  In  that  case  there  must  be  evidence  to 
that  effect  somewhere.  Perhaps  the  Winton  bank 
could  help  me  on  that  point.  I  resolved  to  defer 
my  start  for  Boston  for  half  a  day  and  devote  the 
following  morning  to  an  inquiry  into  the  matter. 

"  Surely  you  will  remain  at  Overlook  to-night," 
I  said  as  Milbrath  rose. 

He  shook  his  head  a  little  sadly. 

"  I  have  registered  at  the  Winton  House  this 
time,"  he  said,  "  and  it  is  best  that  I  should  return 
there." 

"  Then  plan  to  lunch  here  to-morrow.  You  can 
talk  with  Kilbourne  before  or  afterward,  as  you 
like.  I  Ve  decided  to  delay  my  start  for  Boston, 
and  shall  call  upon  Banker  Crane  in  the  morning. 
I  want  to  learn  whether  Mr.  Somhers  ever  made 
any  checks  to  this  Philander  Summerfield.  By  the 


MILBRATH'S   ADMISSION          191 

way,  in  the  matter  of  writing  Mr.  Somhers  left 
practically  nothing.  I  have  looked  through  every 
file,  trunk  and  box  in  the  house,  but,  aside  from  a 
few  receipts,  I  Ve  found  nothing.  I  wonder  whether 
he  was  as  careful  in  what  he  wrote  ? " 

"  Undoubtedly.  He  answered  letters  promptly, 
and  his  first  act  afterward  was  to  destroy  the  ones 
received.  It  was  one  of  his  axioms  that  the  less  one 
puts  on  paper  and  keeps  on  paper  the  less  one  has 
to  trouble  about." 

"  Hum !  A  curious  axiom  for  an  honest  man ! 
Well,  we  shall  see  what  Mr.  Crane  knows  about  Mr. 
Somhers'  checks." 

Milbrath  glanced  at  his  watch. 

"  Not  quite  nine  yet,"  he  said.  "  I  think  I  '11 
surprise  Red  Gables  with  a  materialization  there. 
I  wish  you  would  join  me,  Bliss." 

I  should  have  preferred  an  hour  on  the  water; 
but  suddenly  one  of  Kilbourne's  mottos  for  success 
rang  in  my  memory :  "  Never,  without  excellent 
reason,  decline  an  invitation;  it  may  lead  you  to 
unexpected  information."  So  I  announced  that  I 
was  ready  to  accompany  him,  and  a  moment  later 
Milbrath  and  I  were  threading  the  triangle  of 
woods. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

A    EEVELATION 

screened  veranda  at  Red  Gables  was  bathed 
-•-  in  the  mellow  glow  from  a  dozen  delicately 
tinted  Japanese  lanterns,  and  the  tinkle  of  a  man- 
dolin and  the  sound  of  a  deep  voice  humming  a 
Venetian  boating  song  reached  our  ears  as  we  ap- 
proached. We  could  see  through  the  open  French 
windows  into  the  lighted  living  room  where  Mr. 
McClure  and  a  gentleman,  who  was  a  stranger  to  me, 
sat  before  a  card  table  with  a  chessboard  between 
them.  It  was  Dolly  and  Kilbourne,  then,  on  the 
veranda,  and  on  the  unlighted  end,  too,  where  the 
moonbeams  were  beginning  to  play  hide-and-seek 
with  the  clematis  vines. 

As  we  neared  the  house  I  perceived  that  a  third 
person  made  up  the  group  upon  the  veranda,  a 
woman  whom  Dolly  called  "  godmother  Foster,"  as 
she  introduced  me,  and  who  greeted  Milbrath  in  a 
manner  so  distant  and  chilling  that  a  blanket  of  fog 
seemed  on  the  moment  to  envelop  us. 

Kilbourne  was  plainly  not  overjoyed  by  the  ar- 
rival of  Milbrath,  or  of  me,  perhaps,  but  his  spirits 
were  too  buoyant  that  evening  to  feel  a  damper  for 
long.  Dolly's  welcome  to  Milbrath  was  to  my  mind 
clearly  not  that  of  a  mere  friend,  and  I  wondered 
how  under  the  sun  Kilbourne  failed  to  take  the  hint. 


A   EEVELATION  193 

We  sat  upon  the  veranda  for  a  while,  but  few 
words  were  spoken.  Dolly  continued  to  finger  the 
mandolin  strings  in  accompaniment  to  Kilbourne's 
snatches  of  song.  Presently  Mrs.  Foster  suggested 
that  we  go  inside  and  persuade  Dolly  to  sing  as  Kil- 
bourne  had  been  asking  her  to  do  all  the  evening. 

I  seconded  the  motion  eagerly,  for  I  understood 
instinctively  that  Milbrath's  sensitive  nerves  were 
quivering  in  that  atmosphere  of  antagonism  toward 
him  and,  as  Kilbourne  hurried  ahead  to  get  out  the 
music,  I  boldly  attached  myself  to  Mrs.  Foster  and, 
diverting  her  attention  as  best  I  could  led  her  slowly 
toward  the  lighted  living-room,  leaving  Dolly  and 
Milbrath  for  a  moment  alone  among  the  moon- 
beams. Looking  back  in  their  direction  as  we 
crossed  the  threshold  of  a  window,  I  observed  that 
Dolly  was  speaking  rapidly,  and  her  raised  hand 
upon  Milbrath's  shoulder  lent  the  scene  the  appear- 
ance not  only  of  familiarity  but  of  pleading.  They 
seemed  loath  to  part,  but  when  they  did  so  Milbrath 
found  a  seat  upon  a  window  ledge  which  gave  him 
a  view  of  the  room. 

The  game  of  chess  was  finished,  and  the  players 
strolled  toward  the  windows,  for  the  night  was 
sultry  and  the  room  warm.  Mr.  McClure's  kind 
old  face  wore  an  abstracted,  and  perhaps  a  bored, 
expression,  but  at  sight  of  Milbrath  a  glorifying 
smile  changed  every  feature  and  he  hurried  toward 
him,  both  hands  outstretched. 

"  This  is  as  it  should  be,  my  boy,"  he  cried  heart- 
ily. "Now  you  are  on  the  right  road.  Welcome! 
Welcome!" 

13 


194:    THE  SNAKE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

I  did  not  hear  Milbrath's  answer.  All  my  atten- 
tion at  that  moment  was  given  to  the  stranger  who 
also  had  caught  sight  of  the  returned  wanderer,  and 
who  directly  and  deliberately  turned  his  back  upon 
him  and  their  host  and  stood  gazing  with  abstracted 
interest  at  an  engraving  of  Stuart's  "  Washington  " 
upon  the  wall. 

Three  times  Mr.  McClure  spoke  before  the 
stranger  turned  with  a  well-feigned  start. 

"  Mr.  Foster,"  said  Mr.  McClure  in  his  exquis- 
itely modulated  accents,  "  certainly  you  remember 
our  Harry  who  has  been  almost  as  dear  to  me  as 
my  Dolly  ?  His  beard  does  change  his  appearance, 
I  know." 

Mr.  Foster  grappled  the  line  of  excuse  thrown 
out  to  him  and  approached  Milbrath  cautiously. 

"  To  be  sure !  To  be  sure ! "  he  exclaimed  in  high 
nasal  tones.  By  gad!  What  demd  changes  time 
does  work !  "  and  he  lifted  a  monocle  and  regarded 
Milbrath  as  if  he  were  a  rare  specimen  of  the  genus 
man. 

Mr.  McClure  interrupted  the  observation  by  in- 
troducing me,  and  then  seated  himself  upon  the 
tete-a-tete  by  the  side  of  Mrs.  Foster  who  graciously 
drew  to  herself  her  voluminous  skirts  in  smiling 
invitation  to  him  and  at  once  focused  her  attention 
upon  him. 

Mr.  Foster  turned  from  us  irresolutely,  plainly 
unwilling  to  further  address  himself  to  Milbrath, 
and,  taking  advantage  of  the  moment,  I  seated  my- 
self at  Milbrath's  side. 

Dolly,  who  had  observed  the  comedy  just  enacted, 


A   KEVELATION  195 

after  a  doubtful  glance  at  Mr.  Foster,  turned  away 
from  him  with  an  expression  that  said  plainly  that 
the  good  man  could  now  find  a  companion  for  him- 
self. And  she  ran  a  defiant  scale  upon  the  piano 
before  beginning  her  song. 

I  had  never  heard  the  air,  but  Milbrath  told  me 
that  it  was  Dolly's  adaptation  of  a  Mendelssohn 
"  Song  Without  Words,"  and  the  lines  I  knew  to 
be  from  Tennyson. 

I  now  cannot  recall  the  first  words.  I  was  lis- 
tening to  the  air  and  watching  the  girl's  face. 

"Love  then  had  hope  of  richer  store; 
What  end  is  there  to  my  complaint," 

she  sang,  her  eyes  upon  the  pictured  face  of  St. 
Cecilia  above  the  piano  — 

f'This  haunting  whisper  makes  me  faint, 
More  years  had  made  me  love  thee  more." 

Was  it  simply  the  music  sympathetically  ren- 
dered, or  was  it  more  than  art  that  gave  to  those 
last  lines  the  plaintive  suggestion  of  unshed  tears 
and  held  the  room  in  tense  silence  as  the  final  chords 
sang  themselves  to  sleep  upon  the  keyboard?  A 
sigh  passed  through  the  room,  and  with  it  the  spell, 
and  directly  everyone  was  as  before  —  everyone  save 
Harrison  Milbrath  and  myself,  Milbrath  who  de- 
serted his  place  at  my  side  and  joined  Dolly,  and 
I  who  walked  down  to  that  end  of  the  veranda  where 
bars  of  silver  light  fell  aslant  the  floor. 

My  mind  was  perturbed  and  ill  at  ease.  I  felt 
the  nearness  of  something  that  I  could  neither  grasp 
nor  define,  something  that  had  to  do  with  Dolly  and 


196    THE   SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

Milbrath.  For  at  those  last  words  she  had  turned 
her  eyes  —  seas  of  sapphire  at  the  minute  —  from 
the  picture  above  and  before  her,  to  Milbrath  be- 
side me  upon  the  window  ledge.  There  was  an 
expression  in  them  that  defied  my  analysis  or 
comprehension.  That  those  two  were  affianced 
offered  an  explanation  that  was  satisfactory  only 
in  part. 

My  eyes  wandered  across  Winton  neck  to  the  bay 
and  to  sedate  Beverly  already  losing  herself  in  sleep. 
A  few  sail  boats  at  anchor  near  the  shore,  their  white 
wings  drawn  and  folded,  rocked  gently  on  the  com- 
ing tide  and  in  the  shifting  shadows  of  the  clouds 
resembled  spirit  ships,  illusive  and  unreal. 

There  came  to  me  as  I  stood  there  a  remembrance 
of  the  words  that  Dolly  had  spoken  that  afternoon 
when  she  and  I  were  drifting  about  in  the  rowboat. 

"  Sometimes  it  maddens  me,"  she  had  said,  "  to 
think  that  the  days  and  months  and  years  are  pass- 
ing and  we  seem  just  as  far  as  ever  from  finding 
who  is  to  blame,  who  is  responsible  for  these  blighted 
years  and  heartaches !  " 

What  despair  had  rung  in  her  young  voice ! 

Suddenly  I  seemed  to  see  the  printed  report  of  a 
certain  day  in  Milbrath's  last  trial,  the  day  that  the 
elderly  clergyman  testified  that  Milbrath  had  been 
with  him  at  the  probable  hour  of  Mr.  Somhers' 
death.  He  had  cleverly  prevented  a  reading  be- 
tween the  lines  at  the  time,  but  in  that  moment  of 
retrospection  the  situation  stood  revealed  to  me. 
Harrison  Milbrath  had  been  married  on  that  day! 
And  to  whom  but  to  Dolly  McClure?  I  marveled 


A   REVELATION  197 

that  I  had  not  thought  of  this  before,  that  the  whole 
world  had  not  taken  the  hint. 

But  why  had  they  guarded  their  secret  to  so  great 
a  sacrifice  to  Milbrath  ?  I  knew  the  answer  even  as 
I  asked  myself.  Because  of  Milbrath's  Quixotic 
notions;  because,  as  Dolly  had  said  in  reference  to 
another  matter,  he  would  not  have  her  name  dragged 
before  the  public. 

After  that  revelation  I  stood  so  long  in  silence 
staring  at  the  moonlit  land  and  sea  that  Mr.  Mc- 
Clure  called  to  me. 

"  I  believe  you  were  moon-gazing,"  he  said  ban- 
teringly,  but  with  a  sharp  glance  at  me,  "  and  we 
all  know  what  that  means.  You  are  wanted  inside 
—  a  prospective  boatride  or  something  of  the  kind." 

Kilbourne  and  Mrs.  Foster  were  planning  a 
morning  picnic  to  Shell  Cove. 

"  Old  Brown  will  sail  us  over  and  we  '11  breakfast 
under  the  trees.  Can't  you  defer  that  tiresome  trip 
and  join  us,  laddie  ?  "  Kilbourne  asked  as  I  came  up. 

"  I  'd  like  to,  but  another  affair  has  developed." 

"  Better  cut  it  and  come." 

A  moment  later  I  observed  that  Milbrath  had 
slipped  away.  Only  Dolly  and  Mr.  McClure  seemed 
to  know  that  he  was  gone.  I  made  my  adieux  brief, 
and  hurrying  after  him  overtook  him  just  as  he  was 
leaving  the  grounds. 

"  Will  you  not  —  see  Kilbourne  to-night  ?  "  I 
asked. 

Milbrath  looked  at  me  keenly.  Then  he  shook  his 
head. 

"  It  would  only  spoil  the  morning  party,  and  so 


198    THE   SNAKE   OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

far  as  I  can  see  no  harm  is  likely  to  come  of  waiting 
another  half  day." 

"  Perhaps  not.  Still,  you  never  can  tell  about 
Kilbourne.  I  'm  convinced  now  that  he  is  genu- 
inely in  love  with  Dolly,  and  as  it 's  the  first  attack 
of  the  kind  that  he  's  ever  had  it  is  hard  to  tell  when 
he  will  break  out." 

I  drew  closer  to  Milbrath  until  we  touched 
shoulders. 

"  I  know  all  your  secret  now,  you  see,"  I  said. 
"  You  are  willing  ?  " 

"  I  am  glad,"  Milbrath  answered  simply  and 
caught  my  hand  in  a  hearty  grasp.  "  Now  you 
understand  why  I  abandoned  the  European  trip  — 
what  has  brought  me  to  Winton." 

I  nodded. 

"  But  I  can't  understand  why  I  was  blind  for  so 
long,  or  how  you  have  managed  to  hold  your  secret," 
I  said. 

"  I  cannot  understand  how  we  escaped.  As  it  was 
Mr.  Longman  could  scarcely  be  made  to  keep  his 
promise  of  secrecy.  Mr.  Longman  was  the  clergy- 
man, you  know,  and  a  friend  of  Mr.  McClure's.  He 
declared  that  the  case  needed  his  testimony,  and  it 
was  only  upon  my  most  earnest  pleading  that  he 
kept  quiet  until  my  second  trial." 

"  But  merciful  Heavens,  man,  why  did  you  keep 
quiet,  or  want  him  to  ?  Think  what  a  statement  of 
the  facts  would  have  saved  you !  In  the  first  place 
you  would  never  have  been  held  by  the  coroner's 
jury." 

Milbrath  groaned. 


A   KEVELATION  199 

"  Yes,  yes ;  if  I  had  done  so.  But  I  am  one  of 
those  unfortunates  who  see  things  only  from  behind. 
We  had  agreed  to  keep  our  marriage  secret  for  a 
year,  Dolly  and  I,  or  until  such  a  time  as  I  could 
provide  for  her  with  my  own  earnings,  and  at  first 
I  saw  no  reason  for  changing  our  plans.  I  never 
dreamed  of  being  accused  of  taking  uncle's  life,  and 
even  when  the  coroner's  verdict  came  in  against  me 
the  charge  seemed  too  absurd  to  hold  and  I  expected 
to  be  acquitted  after  trial.  At  that  time  it  seemed 
as  if  it  ought  to  be  easy  to  detect  the  real  criminal, 
and  I  was  full  of  hope  for  what  would  happen  when 
I  was  free  again.  By  the  time  of  the  second  trial 
I  saw  things  differently." 

"  Even  then  it  was  not  too  late  to  vindicate  your- 
self by  a  statement  of  facts,"  I  argued. 

"  It  was  too  late  unless  I  dragged  Dolly  into  it, 
my  patient  little  Dolly !  And  do  you  think  I  would 
do  that?  Great  God,  Bliss,  think  of  it!  Would 
you  want  the  name  of  the  woman  you  love,  or  of 
your  sister,  if  you  have  one,  on  every  tongue  in  con- 
nection with  such  a  case  ?  Had  I  seen  the  end  from 
the  beginning  —  understood  that  I  should  be  under 
suspicion  unless  I  revealed  the  truth,  I  might  have 
done  differently." 

"  Did  Mi^  Somhers  know  of  your  plan  to 
marry  ? " 

"  I  think  that  he  surmised  it,  and  it  was  a  great 
irritation  to  him.  He  liked  Dolly  and  told  me  fre- 
quently that  she  was  altogether  too  good  for  me. 
On  that  last  day  when  I  announced  to  him  that  I 
meant  to  strike  out  for  myself,  and  should  not  return 


200    THE   SNAKE   OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

again  to  Overlook  until  I  was  independent,  he 
taunted  me  with  the  probable  long  wait  that  I  should 
have  before  I  should  again  see  Dolly.  It  was  that 
last  quarrel,  more  than  all  the  rest,  I  believe,  that 
broke  me  up  afterward.  That  he  was  murdered  was 
bad  enough,  but  that  he  had  gone  suddenly,  with  my 
angry,  bitter  words  still  rankling  in  his  heart,  as  I 
knew  that  they  would  rankle,  was  what  told  on  me." 

Milbrath  appeared  to  have  spoken  the  last  sen- 
tences more  to  himself  than  to  me. 

"  I  cared  more  for  the  governor  than  I  thought,  I 
suppose,"  he  added,  and  his  voice  shook. 

"  Does  Mr.  McClure  know  that  his  little  girl  is 
Mrs.  Milbrath?" 

"  Yes ;  he  was  with  us  in  Boston  and  returned 
to  Winton  with  her  directly  following  the  ceremony. 
Like  Mr.  Longman  he  fretted  against  his  secrecy 
and  my  obstinacy.  Poor  old  man !  If  only  I  could 
have  seen  things  as  I  see  them  now!  I  could  have 
saved  many  a  heartache." 

"  And  now  it  is  for  Kilbourne  to  know,"  I  re- 
flected aloud,  and  I  realized  that  another  heartache 
would  be  the  result. 

"  He  must  be  told  —  for  the  sake  of  his  happiness 
as  well  as  for  Dolly,"  Milbrath  said  soberly. 

Half  an  hour  later  I  stepped  into  Kilbourne's 
room. 

"  You  '11  be  back  to-morrow  in  time  for  lunch  ?  " 
I  asked. 

"  Sure  thing,  unless  you  'd  prefer  to  have  me  stay 
away." 


A   KEVELATION  201 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  should  like  to  have  you  here 
without  fail.  Mr.  Milbrath  will  lunch  with  us  for 
the  express  purpose  of  having  a  few  words  with 
you." 

"  With  me  ?    Me !    Do  my  ears  deceive  me  ?  " 

"  Hardly.  I  said  '  to  have  a  few  words  with 
you." 

Kilbourne  was  shaving  and  his  cheeks  were  cov- 
ered with  lather,  but  he  lowered  his  razor  and  turn- 
ing about  stared  at  me  absently  for  a  second.  I  do 
not  think  that  a  suspicion  of  what  Milbrath  would 
have  to  say  to  him  crossed  his  mind. 

"  I  '11  be  here  for  the  lunch,  laddie,  if  I  must  be ; 
but  don't  ask  too  much  of  me,"  he  replied. 

As  I  passed  out  of  the  room  he  called: 

"  Better  come  along  in  the  morning.  We  '11  be 
off  about  seven." 

For  a  while  after  I  returned  to  my  room  I  puffed 
fiercely  at  my  blackest  pipe  and  through  the  rings 
of  smoke  sent  upward  meditated  to  the  ceiling  upon 
the  events  of  the  evening.  Presently  my  "  Black 
Beauty  "  failed  in  comfort.  I  began  to  be  tortured 
by  a  consciousness  that  it  was  up  to  me  to  prepare 
Kilbourne's  mind  for  what  Milbrath  had  to  tell  him, 
that  I  should  have  done  so,  in  spite  of  the  picnic, 
before  we  parted  for  the  night.  I  knew  Kilbourne's 
capacity  for  suffering,  and  I  feared  that  a  blow  that 
touched  his  heart  would  be  the  hardest  blow  to  bear. 

There  had  been  times  that  I  could  recall  when  I 
had  thought  that  some  sharp  misfortune  or  failure 
that  touched  his  pride  or  his  heart  was  what  Kil- 
bourne needed  to  rouse  him  to  a  realization  of  his 


202    THE   SNARE   OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

own  egotistical  and,  in  many  respects,  wholly  selfish 
attitude  toward  life.  Something  to  stimulate  his 
sympathies,  to  put  him  in  closer  touch  with  the 
tears  of  the  world,  and  to  help  him  recall  more  often 
that  the  earth  did  not  revolve  for  Kilbourne  alone, 
might  mean  to  develop  the  kindly  traits  of  his 
naturally  generous  and  noble  character.  But  he 
was  my  friend,  and  I  dreaded  to  see  the  reforming 
agent  arrive. 

Dawn  streaked  the  horizon  when,  at  last,  I  fell 
asleep,  and  day  was  astir  and  well  on  with  her  house- 
work when  again  I  opened  my  eyes  and  saw  that 
the  hands  of  the  little  clock  on  the  dressing-table 
pointed  to  seven-thirty. 

I  sprang  up,  appalled  at  the  lateness  of  the  hour, 
and  ran  to  the  window  to  see  whether  Brown's  boat 
had  made  a  start.  The  marine  glasses,  which  I 
called  to  Gaspard  to  bring,  showed  me  that  she  was 
well  past  the  lighthouse,  moving  swiftly  before  a 
fresh  breeze.  There  was,  therefore,  nothing  to  do 
but  await  Kilbourne's  return. 

I  dressed  hastily  and  went  out  to  the  walk  on  the 
bluff  where  for  half  an  hour  I  paced  with  the  sweet 
sea  and  grass-scented  air  in  my  face  and  awaited 
Gaspard's  call  to  breakfast. 


CHAPTER   XXIH 

BANKER    CRANE    LENDS    A    HAND 

AST  drove  into  town  a  few  hours  later,  I  watched 
-^*-  in  vain  for  Milbrath,  hoping  to  meet  him  and 
persuade  him  to  join  me  in  the  visit  to  the  bank. 
The  president  of  the  bank  of  Winton  was  easy  of 
access,  for  he  was  likewise  its  cashier  and  its  teller. 
We  had  met  before,  so  there  was  no  need  to  make 
myself  known,  except  in  the  role  of  investigator  of 
the  mystery  of  Overlook.  Then  I  told  him  that  I 
had  come  to  solicit  his  assistance. 

He  regarded  me  steadily  for  a  moment,  and  then 
gravely  informed  me  that  if  to  give  me  help  were 
consistent  with  the  honor  of  his  position  he  should 
be  pleased  to  do  all  in  his  power.  Whereupon  I 
asked  him  without  circumvention  whether  to  his 
knowledge  and  remembrance  Mr.  Somhers  ever 
drew  a  check  to  one  Philander  Summerfield. 

"  He  drew  several  to  Philander  Summerfield," 
Mr.  Crane  answered  promptly. 

"  At  close  intervals  ?  " 

"  All  that  I  know  of  were  drawn  within  two 
months." 

"And  the  last?" 

"The  last  was  dated  about  fifteen  days  before 
Mr.  Somhers'  death  and  was  deposited  in  the  Sec- 
ond National  Bank  of  New  York  three  days  later." 


204    THE  SNAKE   OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

"  Was  this  last  check  for  a  large  amount  ? " 

"  For  thirty  thousand  dollars." 

"  Ah !  You  have  an  extraordinary  memory,  Mr. 
Crane." 

"  I  have  reason  to  remember  these  instances.  The 
first  checks  would  have  made  no  more  impression 
upon  my  memory  than  any  others  that  Mr.  Somhers 
drew  through  our  little  bank,  had  it  not  been  for 
this  last  large  amount,  which  I  had  only  just  secured 
at  Mr.  Somhers'  request  on  some  P.  &  U.  bonds. 

"  Were  these  facts  of  no  value  in  the  search  for 
the  assassin  of  Mr.  Somhers  ? " 

"  They  appeared  not  to  be.  I  made  mention  of 
the  last  check' to  the  chief  of  police,  as  it  seemed  to 
me  that  it  might  have  a  bearing  upon  the  case,  but 
he  and  his  colleagues  declared  it  to  be  without  prob- 
able connection,  as  the  return  voucher  was  in  my 
hands  fully  a  week  before  the  crime." 

"Did  Mr.  Milbrath's  counsel  agree  with  the 
police  ? " 

"  I  did  not  refer  the  matter  to  them.  Upon 
further  consideration,  I  concluded  that  the  police 
were  doubtless  right.  Moreover,  it  is  hardly  politic 
for  me  to  publish,  without  important  reason,  the 
affairs  of  our  clients." 

"I  dare  say.  Do  you,  however,  happen  to  know 
anything  about  this  Philander  Summerfield  ?  " 

"  Nothing  whatever." 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  you  were  quite  right  in  feel- 
ing that  the  reason  for  so  large  a  check  should  have 
been  explained  before  the  coroner,  or,  at  least,  at 
Mr.  Milbrath's  trials,  and  I  shall  endeavor  to  go 


BANKER  CRANE  LENDS  A  HAND  205 

back  a  few  years  and  look  for  the  receiver  of  the 
check.  Does  any  other  point  occur  to  you  that  may 
be  useful  to  me  ?  " 

Mr.  Crane  deliberated. 

"  I  fear  not,  Mr.  Bliss.  I  wish  you  every  success, 
however,  and  I  hope  that  every  vestige  of  doubt  may 
be  removed  from  Harry,  if  the  law  was  quite  right 
in  its  last  judgment  of  the  case." 

We  shook  hands  after  this  cautious  expression  of 
good  will,  and  I  went  out  into  the  street  and  up  to 
the  post  office,  where  the  "  faculty  "  was  holding  its 
usual  morning  session  upon  the  piazza.  I  joined 
them,  and  for  an  hour  listened  to  the  desultory 
gossip. 

Just  before  noon  I  drove  back  to  Overlook,  and 
found  that  Milbrath  was  already  there. 

"  I  think  I  can  show  you  the  route  from  here 
to  the  Winton  station  taken  by  your  mysterious 
visitor,"  he  said  as  I  came  up.  "  There  is  a  trail 
that  I  used  when  I  was  a  lad,  and  sometimes  of  late 
years,  even,  when  I  raced  over  to  watch  the  trains. 
I  came  through  it  to-day,  and  there  are  evidences 
that  it  is  still  used  occasionally."  He  made  a  dia- 
gram with  a  pencil  on  a  piece  of  paper  which  showed 
me  a  cut  through  the  woods  of  which  I  had  no 
knowledge. 

"  Who  besides  you  knew  of  this  trail  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Why,  I  can't  be  sure  that  anyone  did.  The  few 
chaps  that  uncle  permitted  me  to  associate  with, 
uncle  himself  and  Joe  Arms  are  the  ones  most  likely 
to  learn  of  it.  And  the  boys  are  either  dead  or  gone 
from  town,"  he  added  reflectively. 


206    THE  SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

"  Has  Kilbourne  returned  ?  " 

"  I  think  not.  I  called  at  Red  Gables  and  found 
Mr.  McClure  alone.  We  talked  for  an  hour,  and 
when  I  came  over  here  the  others  had  not  put  in  an 
appearance.  Did  you  see  Mr.  Crane  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  and  repeated  the  conversa- 
tion that  I  had  with  the  banker.  Milbrath  became 
excited. 

"  By  George!  "  he  cried.  "  We'll  look  that  up 
as  soon  as  we  reach  Boston.  I  don't  remember  any 
vouchers,  but  doubtless  they  are  with  a  pile  of  truck 
that  has  been  in  a  deposit  vault  for  the  past  six 
months.  The  indorsement  on  the  check  ought  to 
prove  whether  the  old  fellow  who  pressed  you  into 
commission  is  the  one  who  got  the  money  from 
uncle.  Certainly  there  were  never  two  of  that 
name." 

At  that  moment  we  were  interrupted  by  Gaspard, 
who  declared  that  our  lunch  would  be  spoiled  if 
we  delayed  eating  it  for  another  minute.  A  glance 
at  my  watch  showed  me  that  it  was  already  half  an 
hour  past  the  usual  lunch  time ;  so  we  went  inside. 

The  hour  passed  without  the  appearance  of  Kil- 
bourne, and  I  confess  that  I  felt  considerably  nettled 
by  his  conduct  He  had  no  right  to  ignore  the  re- 
quest of  Milbrath,  who,  as  owner  of  Overlook,  was, 
in  point  of  fact,  his  host.  So  I  sent  Gaspard  to  Red 
Gables  to  inquire  whether  the  party  had  returned 
from  their  sail,  and  to  ask  Mr.  Kilbourne  whether 
he  had  forgotten  that  he  was  to  lunch  with  me. 

During  Gaspard's  absence  Milbrath  grew  silent, 
and  sat  in  an  absorbed  attitude  under  a  great  tree 


BANKER  CRANE  LENDS  A  HAND  207 

on  the  lawn,  a  paper  which  he  did  not  read  in  his 
hands. 

"  Zay  have  arrive,  m'sieu.  Zay  all  eat  on  zee 
grass  —  so,"  Gaspard  announced  with  a  flourish. 
"  Zee  m'sieu  Ke-bourne  vill  come  —  how  he  zay  ?  — 
pre-sent-ly." 

I  knew  from  that  form  of  answer  that  Kilbourne 
had  not  forgotten  his  engagement  with  me,  but  had 
indolently  ignored  my  request  to  return  to  Over- 
look to  lunch  because  of  the  fascination  of  the 
moment  at  the  other  end  of  the  line.  That  was 
Kilbourne  to  the  letter.  Nevertheless  I  felt  my  in- 
dignation getting  beyond  bounds.  I  perceived  that 
Milbrath  saw  the  matter  in  its  true  light,  but  he 
took  it  sensibly. 

A  half-hour,  perhaps,  passed  in  silence  during 
which  we  both  made  a  pretense  at  reading.  Then 
Milbrath  rose  from  the  ground  where,  for  a  time, 
he  had  been  lying  face  downward  and  shook  him- 
self like  a  great  Newfoundland  dog. 

"  I  have  an  Indian's  habit  of  listening  from  the 
ground,"  he  said,  "  and  an  Indian's  ear  for  foot- 
steps. I  think  it  is  Kilbourne  approaching.  If 
you  will  excuse  me  I  will  go  to  meet  him."  He 
walked  leisurely  down  the  roadway,  and  near  the 
entrance  Kilbourne  and  he  met. 

I  had  returned  to  the  portico,  and  looking  down 
I  saw  them  at  that  moment.  I  turned  away,  sorry 
to  my  heart's  core  for  Kilbourne.  I  felt  that  in 
Dolly  McClure  he  had  found  the  one  woman  who 
could  hold  his  affection  through  a  lifetime,  and 
that  the  loss  of  her  would  mean  at  first  a  crushing 


208    THE   SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

sense  of  the  world's  incompleteness  and  later,  in  his 
books,  an  idealization  of  femininity  by  the  side  of 
which  all  others  would  be  found  lacking. 

I  turned  into  the  house,  loath  to  meet  Kilbourne 
just  then,  but  he  came  directly  to  me  in  the  library 
and  closed  the  door  behind  him.  His  face  was  livid, 
and  there  was  an  expression  of  pain  such  as  I  never 
dreamed  to  see  in  his  deep-set,  dark  eyes.  He 
crossed  the  room  and  flung  himself  into  the  reading 
chair.  Resting  his  head  against  the  high  back  he 
closed  his  eyes. 

I  made  a  pretense  of  writing  as  I  sat  before  the 
desk,  but  my  pen  dragged,  and  at  length  I  let  it 
drop  and  turned  toward  Kilbourne.  From  the 
twitch  of  his  eyelids  I  could  see  that  he  was  thinking 
rapidly,  not  resting,  and  presently  his  eyes  opened 
full  upon  me.  He  glanced  at  the  little  Swiss  clock 
that  ticked  upon  the  wall ;  then  he  rose  and  came 
to  me. 

"  There  is  a  train  at  four.  I  must  take  it.  Will 
you  arrange  ? " 

I  nodded.  "  Kilbourne,"  I  began,  but  he  inter- 
rupted me  with  a  motion. 

"  Don't !  "  he  cried  brokenly.  "  I  know,  but  I 
cannot  hear  it.  Lad,  what  did  I  tell  you  about  — 
Milbrath?"  He  shivered  as  if  with  cold.  "Will 
you  again  doubt  my  intuition  ?  " 

I  did  not  answer. 

"  But  I  knew  it  from  her  first  Good  God,  Elmer, 
to  think  that  in  my  ignorance  I  put  her  to  that  — 
my  Dolly  whom  I  would  shield  and  spare ! " 

He  covered  his  face  with  his  hands  and  rocked 


BANKER  CRANE  LENDS  A  HAND     209 

back  and  forth.  The  man  had  forgotten  himself  in 
the  love  he  held  for  the  girl  he  had  pained,  and,  for 
a  time  at  least,  the  egotist  was  translated  into  a 
man  of  grief. 

Presently  he  touched  me  on  the  shoulder.  The 
act  was  a  caress. 

"  Laddie,"  he  said,  "  I  must  be  alone  and  — 
think." 

I  rose  at  once  and  pushed  my  chair  toward  him. 

"  I  will  see  Gaspard  about  the  carriage  and  come 
for  you  when  it  is  ready.  There  is  yet  an  hour 
before  you  need  to  leave  here,"  I  answered,  and  left 
the  room. 

On  the  portico  steps  I  found  Milbrath  whittling 
a  stick.  He  looked  perturbed  and  pale. 

"  I  'm  going  to  Boston  this  afternoon,  you  know, 
though  it  must  be  on  the  later  train,"  he  said  and 
looked  inquiringly  at  me. 

"  I  will  join  you  in  the  morning.  My  plans  are 
changed  for  to-day,"  and  I  referred  to  Kilbourne's 
proposed  departure.  "  Gaspard  will  drive  you  to 
the  station." 

"  I  must  return  first  to  the  Winton  House,  and  I 
will  drive  over  from  there.  No,  thanks,  I  will  not 
drive  in.  It  is  only  a  short  walk  to  the  hotel  by  my 
trail." 

He  extended  his  hand  as  he  spoke,  and  a  moment 
later  he  had  disappeared  among  the  trees  on  the 
lawn. 

I  went  to  the  stable  and  waited  until  the  horses 
were  hitched. 

When  I  drove  up  to  the  house,  Kilbourne  stood  in 
14 


210    THE  SNAKE   OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

the  doorway,  suitcase  in  hand.  He  came  out  silently 
and  paused  with  one  foot  on  the  carriage  step  as  he 
looked  lovingly  over  the  place,  his  eyes  taking  in  the 
sweep  of  the  green  lawn,  the  curve  of  the  bluff,  the 
stretch  of  ocean  beyond  the  bay;  and  I  knew  that 
in  spite  of  the  grief  in  his  heart  and  the  feeling  that 
he  held  toward  Milbrath  there  still  remained  for 
him  a  powerful  attraction  in  this  "  place  of  silence." 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

MR.    SUMMERFIELD    ELUDES 

WHEN"  I  reached  Boston  on  the  following  day, 
I  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  Milbrath,  for 
he  stood  in  the  door  of  the  Parker  House,  his  face 
full  of  excitement. 

"  You  look  as  if  you  'd  had  the  time  of  your  life," 
I  said.  "  What 's  up  ? " 

"  I  Ve  seen  your  Summerfield  and  he  led  me  a 
chase,  I  can  tell  you !  "  He  laughed  somewhat 
ruefully  as  he  added :  "  I  '11  have  to  confess  that  in 
the  end  I  proved  myself  an  ass." 

"  That,  no  doubt,  is  a  matter  of  opinion.  How 
did  you  reach  the  conclusion?" 

"  Why,  I  followed  the  old  chap  and  —  but  to  start 
at  the  beginning.  I  opened  my  operations  this 
morning  with  a  visit  to  the  deposit  vault,  where  I 
looked  over  a  box  full  of  papers  that  were  turned 
over  to  me  by  the  executors  of  uncle's  will.  It  con- 
tained mortgages  and  bonds,  insurance  policies  and 
signed  notes  principally,  on  none  of  which  I  found 
the  name  of  Philander  Summerfield.  There  were 
two  checks  made  to  him,  however,  and  here  they 
are." 

Milbrath  produced  them,  and  before  they  were 
in  my  hands  I  recognized  on  their  backs  the  small, 
cramped  handwriting  that  Murray  Kilbourne  was 


212    THE  SNAKE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

the  first  to  declare  assumed,  the  indorsement  of 
"  Philander  H.  Summerfield."  His  second  initial 
he  had  not  given  to  me,  but  the  two  persons  were 
undoubtedly  the  same. 

"  This  is  Mr.  Somhers'  hand  ? "  I  asked,  indicat- 
ing the  face  of  the  check. 

Milbrath  assented. 

I  drew  forth  a  bill  receipted  by  "  J.  A.  Rice, 
M.  D.,  Beacon  Street,  Boston,"  for  services  ren- 
dered Mr.  Francis  Somhers  from  January  to  Sep- 
tember, 18 — ,  to  which  was  pinned  the  voucher 
for  the  check  given  at  that  time  by  Mr.  Peter 
Somhers  in  payment  of  the  bill,  and  compared  the 
writing  on  the  two  checks.  They  were  written  by 
the  same  hand  and  although  an  interval  of  years  lay 
between  their  dates  there  was  no  appreciable  change 
in  the  chirography.  In  both  cases  it  was  upright 
and  firm. 

"  Your  uncle  retained  an  extraordinarily  youth- 
ful hand,"  I  remarked.  "  It  looks  like  the  writing 
of  an  even-tempered  man." 

"  Uncle  Peter  was  scarcely  that,  but  he  rarely  dis- 
played temper  to  anyone  but  me.  Now,  here  is 
another  check  that,  because  of  its  size,  may  interest 
you." 

It  was  made  to  "  Albert  Emerson,"  and  was  for 
ten  thousand  dollars.  It  showed  deposit  in  the  First 
National  Bank  of  Boston  and  was  drawn  on  May 
5th,  1892,  five  months  before  Mr.  Somhers'  death. 

"  It  would  be  interesting  to  know  for  what  ser- 
vices these  large  checks  were  given,"  I  remarked. 
"  But,  how  did  you  get  at  Summerfield  ?  " 


ME.    SUMMERFIELD   ELUDES      213 

"  I  went  from  the  deposit  vaults  to  the  post  office, 
hoping  to  learn  something  there  about  the  old  gentle- 
man, but  I  made  no  headway.  I  took  a  look  at 
Box  940,  and  saw  a  letter  there  plainly  addressed 
to  Philander  Summerfield.  It  was  postmarked 
New  York  four  days  ago.  That  seemed  proof  that 
the  old  fellow  had  not  visited  the  post  office  in  three 
days  and  I  thought  it  was  worth  while  to  wait 
around  a  bit  and  take  a  chance  on  his  coming  this 
morning. 

"  I  had  not  long  to  wait,  as  it  happened.  Within 
half  an  hour  I  observed  an  elderly  man  who  tallied 
with  your  description  of  Summerfield.  He  entered 
the  section  where  Box  940  is  located  and  where  I 
stood,  pretending  to  be  absorbed  in  a  list  of  un- 
called-for letters.  I  was  the  only  person  in  there, 
and  he  paused,  probably  to  see  whether  he  knew 
me,  darted  like  a  ferret  to  the  box  and  extracted  the 
letter,  then  whisked  around  and,  with  another  glance 
at  me,  was  out  of  the  room  in  a  twinkling. 

"  It  was  then  that  I  made  my  mistake,  for  I  fol- 
lowed him  at  once.  I  stepped  as  softly  as  possible 
(and  I  wear  rubber  heels),  but  the  old  fellow  must 
be  in  fear  of  being  tracked,  for  at  the  entrance  door 
he  turned  abruptly  and  looked  at  me. 

"  I  endeavored  to  appear  unconcerned,  but  his 
move  was  so  unexpected  that  I  dare  say  I  betrayed 
my  surprise.  His  whiskers  parted  in  a  sardonic 
grin  and  upon  my  soul,  Mr.  Bliss,  for  one  instant 
I  thought  that  my  uncle  Peter  stood  before  me. 
Many  are  the  times  that  I  have  seen  just  such  an 
expression  on  uncle's  face  when  he  was  upbraiding 


214    THE   SNAKE   OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

me,  and  this  man's  eyes  were  half  closed  in  the  same 
demoniacal  fashion.  I  assure  you  I  'm  ready 
enough  now  to  accept  your  suggestion  that  Summer- 
field  is  a  relative. 

"  Well,  I  had  enough  presence  of  mind  to  assume 
an  expression  of  surprise  at  his  manner  and  turn  to 
a  writing  table  by  a  window.  From  the  corner  of 
my  eye  I  watched  him  leave  the  building  and  enter 
a  herdic  that  stood  by  the  curb,  and  drive  away. 

"  Within  another  minute  I,  too,  was  in  a  herdic 
and  in  hot  pursuit,  for  I  meant  to  see  where  the  old 
man  put  up  if  it  cost  a  fortune,  and  I  instructed  my 
driver  somewhat  to  that  effect 

"  For  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  perhaps,  we  whirled 
along,  up  one  street  and  down  another  until  we  were 
well  away  from  downtown.  I  think,  from  the  way 
we  dodged  about,  that  Summerfield  believed  he  was 
being  followed  and  hoped  by  his  devious  course  to 
evade  me. 

"  Suddenly  we  slowed  down.  There  had  been  an 
accident  of  some  kind  in  the  street  ahead  of  us  and 
the  road  was  blocked  by  people  and  carriages.  Sum- 
merfield had  got  ahead  of  the  crowd  and  turned  at 
the  next  corner.  There  was  nothing  for  us  to  do  but 
turn  around,  dash  down  a  parallel  street  to  the  next 
turn  and  come  out  presently  in  view  again  of  a 
herdic  which  we  had  every  reason  to  believe  the  one 
that  we  were  following.  After  a  few  minutes  my 
driver  looked  down. 

" '  The  fare  ahead,  sir,  has  drove  up  to  a  block/ 
he  said. 

"  '  Then  drive  very  slowly  past  him,'  I  answered. 


MR    SUMMEEFIELD    ELUDES      215 

"  My  man  gave  a  surprised  whistle.  '  Gee ! '  he 
exclaimed,  '  It  ain't  the  same ! ' 

"  And  it  was  not.  The  carriage  ahead  of  us 
had  carried  a  lady  and  child  who  were  mounting  a 
doorstep  at  that  moment,  and  as  we  passed  their 
herdic  I  saw  that  they  had  been  alone  in  it  With- 
out doubt  we  made  our  mistake  when  we  had  to 
turn  back. 

"  I  can't  help  thinking  how  pleased  old  Summer- 
field  must  be  to  think  that  he  gave  me  the  slip  so 
easily !  Do  you  suppose  that  he  fears  being  tracked 
and  is  continually  on  the  lookout  for  sleuths  ?  " 

"Your  experience  with  him  makes  it  seem  that 
way.  There  's  certainly  a  screw  loose  with  the  old 
gentleman,  and  I  '11  notify  him  to-day  that  I  will 
positively  take  no  more  money  from  him,  nor  longer 
consider  myself  in  his  service.  Indeed,  I  think 
that  he  will  have  to  explain  his  conduct,  anyway,  or 
I  shall  go  openly  on  his  track.  Did  he  remind  you 
of  Mr.  Somhers  aside  from  his  expression  at  the  mo- 
ment ? " 

"  I  hardly  know.  He  is  shorter,  I  think,  and 
stoops.  Uncle  was  quite  erect.  He  is  considerably 
older,  too,  I  should  judge,  but  a  beard  makes  a  great 
difference  in  a  man's  appearance.  Uncle  wore  only 
a  mustache." 

"  Was  Mr.  Francis  Somhers  older  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  certain.     I  think  he  was  younger." 

"  Well,  when  we  have  finished  here,  we  '11  call 
upon  this  Dr.  Rice,  if  you  don't  object.  Perhaps 
he  can  help  us  settle  the  question  of  whether  Francis 
Somhers,  whom  he  treated,  actually  died." 


216    THE   SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

"  I  'm  with  you.  The  sooner  we  get  some  light 
on  these  points,  the  better  satisfied  I  shall  be." 

At  five  o'clock,  accordingly,  after  I  had  mailed  a 
brief  note  to  Mr.  Summerfield,  in  which  I  notified 
him  that  I  was  in  Boston  and  must  request  him  to 
grant  me  an  interview  and  be  prepared  to  explain 
his  connection  with  the  late  Peter  Somhers  or  per- 
mit me  to  waive  my  contract  with  him,  Milbrath 
and  I  found  ourselves  being  admitted  by  a  neatly 
gowned  maid  to  a  waiting-room  in  a  pretentious 
English  basement  house  in  the  then  most  fashion- 
able quarter  of  Boston ;  for  we  had  found  Dr.  Rice's 
address  without  difficulty. 

There  were  a  number  of  patients  ahead  of  us,  but 
when  we  took  our  turn  the  room  in  which  we  sat 
was  vacated  save  by  ourselves.  I  had  caught  an 
occasional  glimpse  of  Dr.  Rice,  as  his  door  opened 
and  closed.  He  was  a  short,  florid  man  of  fifty, 
perhaps,  given  to  a  blandness  of  speech  which  seems 
so  often  to  accompany  his  type  of  figure.  By  pre- 
arrangement  I  acted  as  spokesman  and,  presenting 
my  card,  I  introduced  Milbrath  as  my  friend  Mr. 
Nelson. 

"  We  are  here,  Dr.  Rice,  to  consult  you  on  a 
matter  rather  different,  I  fancy,  from  your  general 
run  of  cases,"  I  said,  and  the  doctor  bestowed  upon 
us  a  quick,  inscrutable  glance  as  he  motioned  us  to 
chairs.  "  I  have  been  put  in  charge  of  some  matters 
relating  to  the  estate  of  the  late  Peter  Somhers  of 
Winton,  whose  tragic  death  two  years  ago  you  may 
recall  ? " 

The  doctor  inclined  his  head  slightly,  but  from 


MR.    SUMMERFIELD    ELUDES       217 

his  expression  I  learned  nothing  as  to  whether  the 
name  stirred  any  other  recollections. 

"  I  find  it  important  to  learn  more  of  the  death 
about  sixteen  years  ago  of  Mr.  Somhers'  brother, 
Francis  Somhers,  who  was,  I  believe,  your  patient 
at  that  time." 

Dr.  Rice  laughed  mirthlessly. 

"  You  ask  a  good  deal  of  a  busy  man's  memory," 
he  said.  "  Sixteen  years  is  a  considerable  time  to 
remember  a  patient  of  ordinary  interest." 

"  I  appreciate  the  truth  of  your  words,  and  so  far 
as  I  know  there  was  nothing  in  this  Mr.  Somhers' 
case  to  render  it  more  likely  to  be  remembered  than 
any  one  of  a  dozen  others  that  you  may  have  had  in 
the  same  year.  But  your  practice  was  doubtless 
more  limited  at  that  time,  and  if  you  will  permit  me 
to  tell  you  what  I  know  of  Mr.  Somhers'  last  days 
it  is  possible  that  you  may  recall  him." 

Quickly  I  related  what  Milbrath  had  told  me  of 
the  last  stages  of  his  uncle's  career.  But  the  doc- 
tor's face  remained  impassive. 

"  The  description  fits  a  large  number  of  cases  that 
I  have  had,"  he  said. 

"  Will  this  photograph  help  you  ? "  It  was  a 
picture  that  I  had  found  the  evening  before  in  an 
album  of  photographs  at  Overlook.  It  was  marked 
"  Francis  Somhers,  1875,"  so  was  unmistakable. 

Dr.  Rice  shook  his  head  after  a  moment's  study. 

"  This  receipt,  then,  which  shows  that  your  bill 
was  paid  by  Mr.  Peter  Somhers  ?  " 

Dr.  Rice  scrutinized  the  receipt. 

"  It   is   mine,    undoubtedly,"   he   said   handing 


218    THE   SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

it  back  to  me,  "  but  I  regret  that  it  stirs  no 
recollection." 

I  gazed  at  the  doctor's  impassive  face  for  a  full 
second  with  the  conviction  that  either  the  picture  or 
the  bill  had,  notwithstanding  his  assertion,  awak- 
ened some  recollection  which  he  was  withholding. 
Then  I  rose. 

"  It  is  useless,  then,  to  trouble  you  further  at 
present,"  I  said.  "  Later  I  may  be  able  to  present 
some  point,  if  you  will  permit  me,  that  will  rouse 
your  memory.  I  hope  so,  at  least,  for  it  is  impor- 
tant that  I  obtain  some  facts  regarding  Mr.  Somhers' 
last  illness  which  only  his  physician  at  the  time  can 
give  me.  I  thank  you,  Dr.  Rice,  for  the  time  that 
you  have  given  me." 

"  That  is  not  to  be  considered,"  responded  the 
doctor  cautiously,  betraying  in  the  phrase  his  Penn- 
sylvania origin.  Then  he  hesitated  perceptibly. 
"  If  you  will  call  at  this  hour  to-morrow  I  may  have 
some  news  for  you,"  he  said  as  we  gained  the  en- 
trance door.  "  It  has  been  my  custom  from  my 
earliest  practice  to  keep  a  record  of  my  patients,  the 
nature  of  their  maladies,  their  constitutional  pe- 
culiarities and,  frequently,  of  features  personal  to 
them  or  to  the  case.  I  will  endeavor  to  get  at  the 
record  book  for  that  year,"  and  the  doctor  made  an 
entry  in  a  tiny  book  that  he  drew  from  his  coat 
pocket 

"  Well,  we  did  n't  make  a  whole  lot  from  that 
trip,"  commented  Milbrath  cheerfully  as  we  stepped 
into  the  herdic  that  had  brought  us. 

"  And  I  doubt  whether  we  shall  make  much  more 


MR.    SUMMERFIELD    ELUDES      219 

when  we  return  to-morrow.  It  looks  a  little  as  if 
the  doctor  were  hiding  a  card  or  two  from  us. 
Of  course  he  may  merely  wish  to  prove  his  sur- 
mises before  he  speaks,  which  caused  him  to  put 
us  off." 

"  I  suppose  it  is  possible  for  Uncle  Francis  to  be 
alive  and  for  Dr.  Rice  to  know  nothing  of  the  fact," 
said  Milbrath  thoughtfully. 

"  His  bill  shows  that  he  treated  Mr.  Somhers  up 
to  the  month  that  you  believe  him  to  have  died,"  I 
responded. 

"  Well,  if  that  fossil  I  saw  yesterday  proves  to  be 
Uncle  Francis,"  Milbrath  said,  "  I  'm  willing  to  go 
shares  with  him  on  the  money  and  property  question, 
but  I  'm  afraid  my  interest  in  him  would  die  there. 
But  he  is  not  Uncle  Francis,"  he  added  presently 
with  a  return  of  his  cheerful  confidence.  "Uncle 
Francis  died  when  I  was  a  boy.  This  Summerfield 
is  some  one  else,  though  perhaps  a  distant  relative 
whom  I  have  never  known." 

"  Perhaps  my  letter  will  bring  a  solution  to  that 
point  very  soon.  I  think,  however,  we  had  better 
continue  to  work  along  the  lines  we  have  mapped 
out.  To-morrow  we  will  make  an  effort  to  get  hold 
of  one  or  more  of  those  men  who  put  up  the  south 
wing.  To-night  we  might,  perhaps,  take  a  step 
toward  learning  where  Summerfield  left  the  herdic 
this  morning." 

"  How  ?    What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  By  advertisement.  What  do  you  think  of 
this  ?  "  I  tore  a  sheet  from  my  notebook  and  on  it 
wrote: 


220    THE   SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

Fifty  dollars  reward  for  the  number  of  the  herdic 
that  on  August  30th,  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
before  the  general  post  office,  took  in  an  elderly  man 
with  gray  hair,  gray  whiskers,  blue  eyes,  and  rounded 
shoulders.  Old  man  may  have  driven  to  post  office  in 
same  herdic.  N.,  Room  34,  Parker  House. 

"  That 's  all  right  It  ought  to  be  fruitful  of 
results,  unless  Summerfield  has  already  offered  as 
good  an  inducement  for  the  driver's  silence." 

"  A  possibility,  of  course.  We  '11  insert  this  in 
every  daily  paper  in  the  city,  however.  Come,  we 
are  near  the  Globe  office  now,  and  we  can  telephone 
from  there  to  the  other  papers.  After  that  I  vote 
for  dinner." 


CHAPTER   XXV 

A   DISCOVEEY 

rilHE  information  that  I  had  been  able  to  obtain 
J-  concerning  the  men  who  did  the  alterations  at 
Overlook  was  confined  to  the  name  of  Johnson,  and 
he,  from  his  clothes,  was  presumed  to  be  a  mason. 
The  name  of  Johnson  in  the  Boston  directory  ran 
into  a  list  quite  appalling  in  length,  and  I  took  the 
addresses  of  nine  who  were  designated  as  masons, 
and  of  five  whose  occupation  was  given  as  carpenter, 
while  Milbrath  looked  up  the  only  "  Summerfield  " 
who  appeared  in  the  directory.  He  proved  to  be 
young,  and  was  ignorant  of  the  existence  of  the  man 
we  sought. 

We  decided  to  defer  our  first  calls  until  evening, 
and,  at  the  appointed  hour,  we  found  ourselves  again 
waiting  in  Dr.  Rice's  outer  office.  Almost  imme- 
diately that  gentleman  appeared  at  the  door  and 
motioned  us  into  his  consulting  room. 

"  I  think  that  I  may  be  a  trifle  helpful  to-night, 
gentlemen,"  he  said,  extending  a  strong  "  square  " 
hand. 

"  I  am  rejoiced  to  have  you  say  so.  You  have 
recalled  the  case  of  Mr.  Francis  Somhers  ?  " 

"  I  was  able  to  get  at  my  old  records,  and  while 
I  am  enabled  to  bring  up  only  a  fleeting  recollection 
of  the  man,  I  have  here  some  data  concerning  the 


222    THE   SNAKE   OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

rAs  he  spoke  the  doctor  drew  from  a  drawer  in  his 
desk  a  large,  gray-covered  book  labeled  conspicu- 
ously :"  Records :  18 — ." 

"  I  think,  Mr.  Bliss,  that  I  am  still  in  doubt  as 
to  just  what  kind  of  information  you  desire  about 
Mr.  Somhers'  case." 

"  The  nature  of  his  malady,  for  one  thing." 

"  Ah,  that  will  be  easily  ascertained,  I  think. 
Here !  '  Mr.  Francis  Somhers,  United  States  Hotel. 
First  call  made  January  17th;  patient  expired 
two  p.  M.,  Saturday,  September  18th.  Cause:  car- 
diac stenosis.'  In  unprofessional  English,  gentle- 
men, a  valvular  disease  of  the  heart." 

"  A  lingering  disease,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Somhers  appears  to  have  suffered  from  it 
for  years.  I  have  here  a  memorandum  to  that 
effect." 

"  You  recall  Mr.  Somhers  sufficiently  well  to  be 
certain  that  he  died  ?  " 

With  a  short  forefinger  marking  a  line  Dr.  Rice 
looked  over  his  spectacles  at  me,  his  round  blue  eyes 
wide  in  question  and  surprise. 

"  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  he  died." 

"  No  possibility  that  circulation  was  restored  after 
life  appeared  extinct  ?  " 

"I  do  not  know  your  purpose,  Mr.  Bliss,  in 
making  these  extraordinary  inquiries.  I  can  only 
say  that  it  is  highly  improbable  that  resuscitation 
was  effected.  Everything  that  science  knew  at  that 
time  was  probably  done  to  save  Mr.  Somhers  and, 
to  my  best  knowledge  and  belief,  without  avail.  If 
he  has  appeared  to  be  alive  at  any  time  since  Sep- 


A   DISCOVERY  223 

tember  18th,  18 — ,  I  cannot  explain  the  phenome- 
non. Is  there  any  other  point,  Mr.  Bliss  ? " 

I  had  followed  Dr.  Rice's  words  and  expression 
closely  and  they  left  no  room  for  reasonable  doubt 
as  to  his  sincerity.  I  observed  that  Milbrath  was 
of  like  mind. 

"  You  have  satisfied  me  fully,"  I  responded.  "  It 
may  interest  you  to  have  me  explain  that  those  near- 
est in  kin  to  the  late  Mr.  Francis  Somhers  have  had 
some  reason  of  late  to  feel  that  he  might  still  be 
living,  and  if  he  be  alive  it  is  of  the  greatest  con- 
ceivable importance  that  he  be  found." 

Dr.  Rice  closed  the  book  of  records  and  replaced 
it  methodically  in  the  drawer  from  which  he  had 
taken  it 

"  May  I  ask  whether  you  have  seen  the  man 
thought  to  be  Mr.  Somhers  ? " 

"  I  saw  him  once,  but  it  was  after  I  lost  track  of 
him  that  I  first  had  occasion  to  attach  connection 
between  him  and  the  Somhers  family." 

"  You  showed  me  a  photograph  of  Mr.  Somhers. 
Have  you  the  picture  with  you  this  evening  ? " 

I  produced  it  and  handed  it  to  the  doctor  who 
gazed  at  it  thoughtfully  but  with  no  change  of 
expression. 

"  Allowing  for  a  difference  in  age  the  face  is  very 
like  an  office  patient  whom  I  have  treated  occasion- 
ally during  the  past  year." 

My  heart  leaped  into  my  throat,  and  I  noted  Mil- 
brath's  sharp  intake  of  breath. 

"  Will  you  favor  me  with  the  name  of  your  pa- 
tient, doctor  ? " 


224    THE   SNAKE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

"  Your  case  hinges,  do  I  understand  correctly, 
upon  proving  whether  Mr.  Francis  Somhers  died  or 
is  still  living  ?  " 

"  Precisely." 

"  You  will  find,  I  feel  sure,  that  Mr.  Somhers' 
record  closed  with  the  one  I  made  of  his  troubles. 
My  present  patient  bears  the  name  of  Summerfield, 
P.  H.  Summerfield." 

"  Ah !  Can  you  give  me  the  address  of  this  Mr. 
Summerfield  ? " 

"  I  regret  that  I  cannot  do  so.  As  I  have  said, 
he  has  been  an  office  patient  and  my  relations  with 
him  have  been  confined  to  consultations  here." 

Dr.  Rice's  manner  now  reflected  signs  of  polite 
impatience.  I  recalled  that  his  dinner  was  doubt- 
less waiting. 

"  We  are  greatly  obliged  to  you,  Dr.  Rice,"  I 
said,  "  I  will  endeavor  to  locate  Mr.  Summerfield 
and  learn  whether  he  is  the  man  we  seek.  You  can 
hardly  say,  I  suppose,  when  he  is  likely  to  call  upon 
you  again  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  the  remotest  idea." 

"  Then  I  will  bid  you  good  evening,  Dr.  Rice." 

When  we  were  again  in  the  street  Milbrath 
slapped  me  across  the  shoulders. 

"  Our  case  strengthens !  "  he  cried,  "  but  what  in- 
fernal luck  we  have  in  getting  at  the  old  fellow." 

"  If  it  comes  to  that  we  can  give  a  description  of 
him  into  the  hands  of  four  detectives  and  have  Dr. 
Rice's  house  watched  day  and  night  until  we  get 
him,  although  of  course  he  may  never  visit  Dr.  Rice 
again." 


A    DISCOVEEY  225 

Milbrath  considered.  Then  he  pulled  me  by  the 
sleeve. 

"  Come,  let  us  be  off  to  an  agency  and  get  the 
men  to  work  at  once.  I  'm  willing  to  risk  the  cost 
of  the  men  for  a  few  weeks  on  the  chance  of  getting 
him  ultimately.  Hi!  There's  a  herdic  turning 
down  Marlborough  Street,"  and  he  whistled  for  it. 

We  entered  the  vehicle  and  drove  to  the  Pingree 
Detective  Agency,  where  we  engaged  men  who  were 
detailed  for  immediate  duty. 

When  we  returned  to  the  hotel  I  found  a  special 
delivery  note,  forwarded  by  Gaspard,  from  Kil- 
bourne  in  which  he  announced  that  he  had  taken 
passage  on  a  steamer  sailing  on  Saturday  for  Liver- 
pool and  implored  me  to  come  to  town  and  stay  with 
him  for  at  least  a  few  hours  before  that  time. 

I  felt  that  I  could  ill  afford  to  spare  time  just 
then  for  any  personal  matter,  but  I  felt,  also,  that  I 
owed  Kilbourne  too  much  to  refuse  his  request  with- 
out urgent  reason.  Therefore  I  wired  him  that  I 
would  join  him  on  the  following  afternoon,  and 
then  communicated  my  change  of  programme  to 
Milbrath. 

"  I  think  I  understand  how  you  feel  about  leav- 
ing," he  said,  "  but  you  really  need  n't  be  bothered. 
You  Ve  given  me  a  very  fair  idea  of  how  to  go 
ahead,  you  know,  and  I  believe  that  I  can  keep 
things  in  hand  for  a  few  days." 

"  Then  I  think  I  '11  stop  at  Overlook  on  my  way 
back.  If  my  mysterious  visitor  with  unsigned  warn- 
ings is  Summerfield  it  is  probable,  I  suppose,  that 
he  lit  out  for  somewhere  when  he  found  you  on  his 

15 


track,  and  as  likely  as  not  he  dropped  off  at 
Overlook." 

I  was  shocked  at  first  by  the  appearance  of  Kil- 
bourne,  when  he  met  me  at  the  Grand  Central  Sta- 
tion and  inquired  at  once  about  his  health ;  but  I 
soon  saw  that  the  change  was  psychical  rather  than 
physical  —  that  the  expression  of  his  eyes,  which 
altered  his  whole  aspect,  denoted  a  change  in  mind 
rather  than  in  health.  His  sympathies  had,  indeed, 
been  quickened  by  his  trouble.  He  inquired  with 
more  interest  than  I  had  known  him  to  display 
about  the  progress  of  my  case,  and  he  spoke  kindly 
of  Milbrath. 

"  I  hope  you  '11  clear  him,"  he  said  in  conclusion, 
"  for  he 's  a  man  if  ever  there  was  one.  But,  my 
God,  Bliss!  he  has  ruined  my  happiness!  After 
this  you  can  scarcely  laugh  at  my  l  old  womanish 
fancies,'  as  you  call  them.  How  many  of  them  have 
given  me  the  lie  ?  "  He  turned  from  me  sadly,  and 
I  had  nothing  to  say. 

It  was  of  this  new  Kilbourne  that  I  thought  many, 
many  times  during  the  year  and  a  half  that  inter- 
vened between  our  meetings:  for  the  next  that  I 
saw  of  him  was  when  I  joined  him  in  Vienna. 

It  was  ten  o'clock  on  Sunday  morning  when  I 
arrived  in  Beverly.  Gaspard  met  me  with  the  run- 
about and  I  saw  at  once  that  he  was  inflated  with 
suppressed  excitement;  but  I  waited  until  we  were 
well  on  the  road  to  Overlook  before  I  encouraged 
him  to  speak. 

"  Zings  happen  when  m'sieu  leaves,"  he  said. 
"  Yesterday  come  zee  man  bent  like  zis  and  old,  ask- 


A    DISCOVEEY  227 

ing  for  m'sieu.  Mon  dieu!  He  look  like  —  vhat 
you  call  it  ?  zee  —  de-scrip-sion  of  zee  homme  m'sieu 
seeks ! " 

"  Yesterday,  did  you  say  ?     At  what  time  ?  " 

"Near  zee  noon,  m'sieu." 

Had  Summerfield  waited  two  days,  then,  after 
knowing  that  he  was  followed  before  leaving  Bos- 
ton? If  such  were  the  case  he  had  probably  re- 
ceived my  note  and  realized  that  I  was  no  longer 
his  friend.  Perhaps  he  had  come  to  Winton  to 
reason  with  me  and  explain. 

"  Tell  me  just  how  he  acted  and  what  he  said, 
Gaspard." 

"Ma  foi!  He  vas  —  vhat  you  call  it?  — 
pe-cu-liar." 

"  In  what  way  peculiar  ?  " 

"  Veil,  he  ring  virst  at  zee  front  door.  '  I  speak 
vid  zee  M'sieu  Blees,'  he  say. 

"  '  Non ;  M'sieu  Blees  n'est  pas  ici.' 

"  He^  smile. 

"  '  Ah ! '  zay  he,  '  an'  vhere  he  iss  ? ' 

"  I  vould  zay  not'ing  but :  '  He  vill  return  after 
a  lee-tie.' 

" t  M'sieu  he  iss  avay  ?  ' 

" '  Oui,  m'sieu.' 

"'Vhere?' 

" '  Zat  I  canno'  zay.  M'sieu  Blees  he  have  many 
zings  to  do :  to-day  ici  —  to-morrow  —  ah !  who 
can  tell?'" 

"  Good,  Gaspard.     And  then  ?  " 

"M'sieu  turn  avay. 

" '  I  vill  again  come,'  he  zay.     Von  hour  later 


I  go  to  zee  zide  door,  for  rap  comes  zere.  Standing 
zere  is  zee  old  m'sieu. 

"  '  M'sieu  Blees,  iss  he  ici  ? ' 

"  '  Non,  m'sieu.    II  n'est  pas  arrive.' 

"  He  smile  more. 

"  '  An'  vhere  he  iss  ? ' 

"  I  zay  again  zee  ferry  words  I  zay  before,  an' 
off  starts  m'sieu.  I  vatch  him.  He  go  down  zee 
valk  and  zit  on  a  bench  in  zee  garden.  I  vatch  him 
zome,  zen  I  vork.  Four  times  more  come  m'sieu. 
He  zaj  zee  zame  zings.  I  zay  zame  —  vhat  you  call 
'em  —  anzers  ? 

"  He  smile  each  time  I  zay :  '  M'sieu  Blees  n'est 
pas  arrive.'  Each  time  he  go  zit  down  on  garden 
bench  and  by  'n'  by  be  gone." 

"  He  left  no  message  ?  " 

"Non,  m'sieu." 

I  considered  for  a  moment  the  advisability  of 
driving  to  the  hotel  to  ascertain  whether  Philander 
Summerfield  was  there  or  had  been  there,  but  I 
decided  against  doing  so.  If  Summerfield  really 
wished  to  see  me  he  would  call  again;  if  his  plan 
were  to  mystify  or  annoy  me  (as  seemed  possible 
from  his  erratic  conduct  as  described  by  Gaspard), 
he  would  take  care  to  get  away  from  Winton  before 
I  returned. 

I  decided  to  drive  into  town  and  inquire  of  Hut- 
ton  whether  his  old  traveler  had  appeared  for  the 
seven  o'clock  train  the  previous  evening.  So  I 
dropped  Gaspard  at  the  gates  of  Overlook  and  con- 
tinued on  to  Winton.  Hutton  had  just  got  in  from 
church  service  and  sat  in  his  wife's  big  rocker  on 


A   DISCOVERY  229 

the  piazza,  of  his  cottage  looking  uncomfortable  and 
unfamiliar  in  his  Sunday  clothes.  He  had  not 
seen  Summerfield  since  the  day  he  told  me  about 
the  old  gentleman,  and  I  took  my  departure  pres- 
ently when  a  vociferous  call  to  dinner  sounded  from 
the  inner  regions  of  the  cottage,  no  wiser  than  I  had 
been  before  my  visit. 

I  stopped  at  the  post  office,  which  was  open  for  a 
few  minutes  about  noon,  and  found  a  letter  from 
Milbrath  which  was  entertaining  in  a  description 
of  the  experience  he  had  had  in  getting  at  the 
Johnson.  It  was  a  curious  fact  that  though  he  had 
not  yet  found  Johnson  he  had  happened  upon  one 
of  the  four  men  who  built  the  wing.  This  man, 
while  heavy  and  stupid,  was  honest,  and  no  persua- 
sion on  Milbrath's  part  induced  him  to  commit  him- 
self on  the  subject  of  the  addition.  He  had  been 
well  paid  by  the  "  crazy  old  gent "  to  keep  his 
mouth  shut,  and  had  sworn,  literally  on  a  stack  of 
Bibles,  he  said,  never  to  reveal  the  secret  of  the  con- 
struction or  to  discuss  it  with  his  fellow  workmen. 
To  the  best  of  his  belief  the  other  three  men  (whose 
names  he  would  not  divulge),  employed  with 
him  on  the  work  took  the  same  oath.  That  was 
all  that  he  could  be  made  to  say. 

But  the  confirmation  of  my  theory  that  a  secret 
did  exist  in  the  construction  acted  like  a  tonic  to  our 
endeavors,  and  Milbrath  asked  whether  he  should 
come  on  and  order  the  wing  torn  down. 

I  read  this  letter  as  I  jogged  slowly  homeward. 
I  was  digesting  its  contents  mentally  as  I  turned 
into  the  main  approach  to  Overlook.  The  day  was 


230    THE   SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

unusually  clear,  and  the  villa  stood  out  in  relief 
against  the  verdant  background. 

All  at  once  I  became  conscious  of  something 
strange  in  the  appearance  of  the  south  wing.  It  was 
only  a  trifle,  in  itself  insignificant  and  without  inter- 
est, but  to  me  at  that  moment  it  was  the  most  remark- 
able thing  that  I  had  observed  about  the  place  —  so 
remarkable,  indeed,  that  I  marveled,  and  marvel  yet, 
that  it  should  have  escaped  my  attention  for  so  long. 
The  chimney  into  which  the  fireplace  opened  at  the 
south  end  of  the  library  set  back  fully  four  feet 
from  the  end  of  the  building  at  the  roof,  showing 
that  a  space  that  I  had  not  accounted  for  lay  in  the 
wing  to  the  south  of  the  library ! 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

THE    SECEET    OF    THE    WING 

A  S  I  strode  into  the  house  Gaspard  was  busy  with 
-^-  the  last  touches  to  the  midday  meal,  but  with 
military  precision  he  responded  to  my  call  to  join 
me  in  the  library. 

"  A  yardstick  or  a  tape  measure,"  I  cried.  "  Is 
there  one  about  ?  " 

"Oui,  m'sieu,"  and  in  a  few  minutes  Gaspard 
produced  a  measure. 

"  Now,  the  length  of  this  room,"  I  said,  and 
stretched  the  bit  of  tape  across  it. 

Allowing  for  the  width  of  the  bookcases,  the  room 
lay  thirty  feet  and  three  inches  to  the  north  and 
south.  The  outside  wall  of  the  wing  measured  pre- 
cisely thirty-eight  feet  three  and  one-half  inches  in 
the  same  direction.  Counting  out  the  width  of  the 
entry  between  the  library  and  the  parlor,  four  feet 
and  two  inches  were  still  unaccounted  for  on  the 
inside. 

Gaspard  regarded  me  with  ill-contained  excite- 
ment, and  a  smothered  exclamation  as  this  truth 
was  proved  to  us,  and  my  answer  was  to  make  a 
careful  examination  of  the  outside  walls  in  search 
of  a  hidden  door.  But  not  only  were  the  walls  to 
every  appearance  and  sound  of  solid  masonry,  but 
the  trailing  woodbine  upon  them  was  undisturbed, 


232    THE   SNAKE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

and  the  fern  beds  at  the  foundation  were  un- 
trampled.  It  was  clear  that  I  must  look  on  the  in- 
side for  the  entrance  to  the  secret  chamber. 

I  set  myself  to  considering  how  light  and  air  were 
furnished  to  it.  There  were  no  windows  or  venti- 
lators, so  far  as  could  be  seen  from  the  lawn  or 
from  below  on  the  roadway ;  but  that  curious,  vine- 
hung  parapet  rail  surrounding  the  cornice  might 
hide  either.  Then  I  recalled  that  the  two  rooms 
on  the  second  floor  above  the  parlors  were  lighted 
alone  by  end  windows.  We  had  not  used  these 
rooms,  but  I  marveled  when  I  first  saw  them  that 
so  valuable  a  light  as  that  from  the  south  should 
be  shut  out  by  blank  wall  space.  Now  the  fact  bore 
new  significance  for  me :  for  without  doubt  the  roof 
of  the  wing  contained  evidences  of  a  hidden  room, 
against  the  discovery  of  which  the  comfort  of  the 
two  chambers  had  counted  as  nothing  to  the  mind 
of  Peter  Somhers. 

To  the  roof  of  the  wing  I  must  get,  therefore,  and 
Gaspard  went  in  search  of  a  ladder.  He  was  obliged 
to  call  upon  Horsford  before  he  secured  one,  but  the 
result  was  worth  his  trouble :  for  when,  at  last,  I 
found  myself  above  the  parapet  rail  my  surmises 
were  proved. 

Lying  close  to  the  cornice,  and  below  it,  was  a 
shaft  about  ten  inches  in  diameter.  I  moved  the 
ladder  so  as  to  get  my  face  close  to  one  of  the  open- 
ings of  the  cap,  but  all  that  I  could  see  was  a  glim- 
mer below,  like  light  upon  water,  or  upon  a  mirror. 
But  the  entrance  to  the  secret  room?  The  logical 
conclusion  was  that  it  was  from  the  library,  but 


THE    SECEET    OF    THE    WING      233 

unless  those  staid  bookcases  had  given  us  the  lie 
when  we  cleaned  about  them,  they  were  immovable 
—  a  part  of  the  very  walls  behind  them.  Was  an 
entrance  from  the  outside  by  means  of  an  under- 
ground passage  illogical  ?  Those  grottos  at  the 
sunken  gardens  would  make  ideal  entrances  to  sub- 
terranean mysteries.  Then  I  recalled  that  once  I 
had  approached  them,  full,  myself,  of  a  spirit  of 
romance,  only  to  find  that  their  fascinating  appear- 
ance ended  with  the  hanging  vines  around  them. 

I  felt  impelled  to  visit  them  again,  nevertheless, 
and  my  eyes,  traveling  the  distance  from  one  and 
then  the  other  of  the  grottos,  and  back  again  to  the 
wing,  quickly  decided  me  that  the  secret  of  entrance 
to  the  wing  must  lie,  if  in  either,  in  the  larger  one. 

As  on  my  previous  visit,  the  grotto  disappointed 
me  with  its  uncompromising  wall  of  stone  behind 
the  vines  which  now  had  begun  to  display  here  and 
there  bunches  of  reddening  berries  amid  the  green. 
But  what  was  that  shining  between  the  stones  half- 
way up  the  wall  at  my  left  ?  A  bit  of  metal,  for  all 
the  world,  so  small  as  almost  to  defy  detection !  Un- 
der any  other  conditions  probably  I  should  have 
thought  it  only  a  bit  that  by  chance  had  been 

mixed  in  the  mortar.  But  now In  an  instant 

my  hand  was  upon  it,  and  though  it  failed  to  re- 
spond to  my  touch  and  reveal  an  opening  I  could  not 
doubt  that  it  connected  with  a  spring  lock,  and  that 
I  stood  before  a  secret  door,  in  all  probability  the 
one  that  I  sought. 

By  every  art  that  I  knew  I  endeavored  to  coax 
the  spring  to  answer  to  my  manipulations  of  the 


234    THE   SNARE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

bit  of  steel,  but  without  success,  and  Gaspard,  who 
had  followed  me  with  the  ladder,  spent  not  only  his 
patience  but  a  fine  assortment  of  French  impreca- 
tions upon  it  —  and  all  in  vain. 

There  was  yet  one  more  hope  left  for  getting  at 
the  secret  room. 

"  Gaspard,"  I  said,  "  I  'm  going  to  wire  Mr. 
Milbrath  to  join  me  immediately,  and  I  want 
you  to  take  the  telegram  over  to  Winton;  but  first 
we  '11  have  one  more  try  at  this  puzzle.  Do  you 
suppose  that  if  we  unloaded  the  bookcases  at  the 
sides  of  the  fireplace  in  the  library  we  could  move 
them?" 

Gaspard  shook  his  head  doubtfully. 

"  Well,  so  I  supposed,  but  let  us  prove  it." 

"  Certainement,  m'sieu." 

We  returned  to  the  library,  and  Gaspard  began 
to  remove  the  volumes  from  the  shelves  to  the  west 
of  the  fireplace,  while  I  unloaded  the  shelves  at  the 
east. 

Very  quickly  we  came  upon  a  difference.  The 
shelves  on  which  I  was  at  work  were  backed  by  wal- 
nut boards  like  themselves,  instead  of  by  the  plas- 
tered wall,  as  elsewhere  in  the  room.  It  required 
but  a  moment's  thought  to  explain  the  reason  for 
the  difference.  The  wooden  back  hid  the  secret 
door!  These  shelves,  then,  must  move;  but  even 
with  the  last  book  out  they  would  not  budge.  We 
examined  their  surface  inch  by  inch  for  a  fastening, 
but  not  a  sign  of  one  could  we  find.  It  was  plain 
that  these  cases  swung  into  the  room  upon  strong 
hinges,  and  that  the  lock  was  on  the  other  side.  The 


THE    SECRET    OF   THE    WING     235 

only  way  to  get  beyond,  therefore,  was  to  tear  down 
the  woodwork  nearest  us.  This  I  disliked  to  do 
unless  Milbrath  were  present.  I  therefore  aban- 
doned the  investigation  for  the  time,  and  Gaspard 
cantered  into  Winton  with  the  telegram. 

I  had  wired  Milbrath  to  come,  if  possible,  on 
the  six  forty-five  from  Boston ;  and  long  before  that 
train  was  due  in  Beverly  I  was  driving  stationward. 
Inactivity  at  that  time  was  out  of  the  question  for 
me,  and  I  felt  that  I  could  not  sleep  until  I  knew 
the  secret  of  the  hidden  room. 

During  the  afternoon  I  had  tried  to  pass  the  time 
in  a  call  at  Red  Gables,  but  found  that  Dolly  had 
gone  to  Providence  to  shop  with  Mrs.  Foster  for  a 
few  days,  and  that  Mr.  McClure  was  out  for  a  drive 
in  the  canopy-covered  phaeton. 

For  a  time,  therefore,  I  rowed  on  the  bay,  but 
even  that  exercise  failed  to  steady  my  pulse,  and 
from  then  until  I  made  a  start  for  Beverly,  I  vi- 
brated like  a  restless  schoolgirl  between  the  dis- 
mantled shelves  in  the  library  and  the  secret  door 
in  the  grotto,  which,  as  the  evening  came  on,  was 
flooded  with  the  uncertain  light  from  a  waning  moon. 

I  was  conscious  of  relief  when  Milbrath  stepped 
from  the  train.  He  handed  to  me  a  letter  as  he 
greeted  me,  and  I  saw  that  it  was  from  Mr.  Sum- 
merfield.  I  tore  it  open  under  the  light  from  the 
station  lamp,  and  read  aloud: 

ME.  BLISS,  Parker  House, 

DEAR  YOUNG  MAN  :  Your  recent  letter  is  entertain- 
ing —  to  say  the  least.  You  appear  to  have  forgotten 


236    THE   SNAKE   OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

that  you  are  under  contract  to  work  for  me,  within  spe- 
cifications, for  one  year,  and  a  signed  contract  is  not  a 
thing  to  be  set  aside  for  a  whim. 

I  can  explain  my  connection  with  the  late  Peter 
Somhers  to  your  entire  satisfaction  —  when  I  choose, 
and  very  likely  I  shall  do  so  —  some  time.  In  the 
meantime  go  ahead  with  your  twopenny  h'penny  inves- 
tigations and  forget  that  you  are  sometimes  a  fool. 

PHILANDER  SDMMERFIELD. 

"Well,  for  coolness  and  insolence  that  takes  the 
prize !  "  exclaimed  Milbrath.  "  Not  a  word,  either, 
about  his  visit  down  here.  The  old  fellow  must  be 
daffy.  But  if  he  won't  meet  you,  we  '11  contrive  to 
meet  him.  The  cabby  who  got  him  away  from  me 
the  other  day  called  upon  us  to-day." 

"  And  you  learned  where  he  set  old  Summerfield 
down  ?  " 

"He  told  me  that  it  was  on  Concord  Street  at 
a  furnished-room  house.  He  could  not  recall  the 
number  but  he  said  that  he  could  take  me  to  the 
place." 

"Yes?" 

"  That  was  just  as  your  message  came,  so  I  had 
no  time  to  go  with  him.  But  I  took  his  number 
and  told  him  that  I  would  look  him  up  at  his 
stand  in  a  day  or  two.  What  has  happened  down 
here  ? " 

We  were  in  the  carriage  by  this  time,  and  had 
turned  into  the  highroad. 

"  I  have  found  the  secret  of  the  wing,  I  suppose." 

"  Is  it  —  a  room  ?  " 

"  I  dare  say  it  is,  though  as  yet  I  Ve  not  got 


THE    SECKET    OF    THE    WING      237 

inside,"  and  I  briefly  related  my  experiences  of 
the  afternoon. 

Milbrath  listened  with  widening  eyes. 

"  By  George ! "  he  cried  when  I  had  finished. 
"  What  a  blind  ass  I  am.  Why,  I  might  have  known 
there  was  a  secret  way  out  of  the  library,  but  it 
never  seemed  reasonable  to  me  until  this  moment  — 
even  when  you  suggested  the  possibility  the  other 
day.  Now  I  remember  that  uncle  used  to  have  a 
habit  of  appearing  in  and  disappearing  from  that 
room  like  a  magician.  I  recall  one  instance  in  par- 
ticular. It  was  during  the  last  summer  of  his  life, 
and  we  were  discussing,  quite  amicably,  for  a  won- 
der, some  subject  that  required  reference  to  a  book 
that  lay  on  a  parlor  table.  I  stepped  out  to  get  it, 
and  when  I  returned,  an  instant  later,  uncle  had 
disappeared.  I  looked  about  in  amazement,  for,  so 
far  as  I  knew,  the  only  way  that  he  could  have  left 
the  room  was  through  the  windows,  which  were 
closed,  or  through  the  door  on  the  entry  portico.  I 
stepped  back  to  that  door,  only  to  find  it  locked  and 
bolted,  and  at  that  moment  Uncle  Peter's  tantaliz- 
ing laugh  rang  out  in  the  library,  and  I  found  him 
there  in  his  chair  by  the  fireplace  almost  doubled 
with  laughter. 

"  '  Oh,  you  're  a  keen-eyed,  sharp-witted  youth ! ' 
he  cried  catching  his  breath, '  a  credit  to  your  family 
and  your  Varsity,  to  be  sure.  Your  wit  will  never 
save  your  neck.' 

"  I  remember  his  very  words,  you  see." 

"  Well,  he  had  his  laugh  in  those  days ;  we  shall 
have  ours  now  —  perhaps ;  but  the  first  thing  that 


we  want  to  learn  is  the  purpose  of  the  place  to 
which  it  leads.  Do  you  feel  equal  to  going  ahead 
to-night  ? " 

"  I  'm  for  that  before  anything  else.  There 's 
Gaspard  yonder  now,  and  Gaspard  has  a  light  burn- 
ing for  you." 

We  hurried  the  horses  on,  and  at  the  door  of  the 
house  left  them  panting  and  glad  to  rest,  as  we  pro- 
ceeded to  the  library. 

Gaspard  had  lighted  the  three  lamps  in  the  chan- 
delier and  the  reading-lamp  with  the  green  shade, 
so  that  the  room  was  brilliant.  The  dismantled 
shelves  with  volumes  heaped  upon  the  floor  gave  the 
apartment  an  appearance  of  disorder  very  different 
from  the  neatness  that  had  prevailed  in  it  upon  my 
first  entrance. 

"  How  blind  we  are  to  the  simplest  facts,"  I  re- 
marked. "  Those  brushed-away  footprints,  for  in- 
stance, leading  to  this  bookcase.  And  I  supposed 
that  the  intruder  had  come  this  way  for  a  volume !  " 

Gaspard  had  provided  a  sledge  and  an  axe,  and 
without  further  ado,  we  began  relentlessly  to  break 
down  the  beautiful  bookshelves.  It  was  a  longer  and 
a  warmer  task  than  we  had  counted  upon,  but  it 
was  done  at  last,  and  standing  in  the  chips  that  be- 
strewed the  floor,  we  saw  that  the  bolt  which  had 
held  the  case  to  the  wall  was  followed  by  another 
which  fastened  from  the  side  away  from  us  the 
door  now  clearly  outlined  in  the  plastered  wall. 

It  was  but  a  wooden  door,  only  as  high  as  the 
bookcase  had  been,  and  a  single  blow  from  the 
sledge  sent  a  million  shivers  from  it  into  the  air. 


THE    SECRET    OF    THE    WING      239 

Another  well-aimed  blow  from  the  strong  arm  of 
Milbrath  unloosened  the  catch  and  like  a  flash,  and 
noiselessly,  what  was  left  of  the  little  door  rolled 
back  and  disclosed  the  place  beyond. 

I  seized  the  reading-lamp  and  doffed  its  shade. 
Its  glow,  spreading  ahead,  lighted  up  the  recess  and 
showed  us  a  space  scarcely  larger  than  a  closet  — 
four  feet  wide  and  only  ten  feet  long. 

Across  the  east  end,  which  was  to  the  left  of  the 
entrance,  stood  a  roll-top  desk  similar  to  the  one  in 
the  library,  its  cover  but  halfway  down. 

An  immense  mirror,  apparently  sunk  in  the  plas- 
ter, stretched  above  a  leather  couch  on  the  south 
wall,  and  at  the  foot  of  the  couch  was  a  marble  set 
bowl  with  faucets  for  running  water. 

On  the  west  wall  was  a  door,  no  doubt  the  one 
leading  into  the  subterranean  passage,  and  on  the 
other  side  of  that,  in  the  corner,  stood  a  table  bear- 
ing a  chafing  dish.  A  cupboard  above  contained 
cocoa,  crackers  and  sugar,  all  fresh.  A  curious  col- 
lection for  this  silent  room. 

"  Shall  I  break  in  this  door  also  ?  "  asked  Milbrath 
indicating  the  one  on  the  west  wall.  "  You  see  it  is 
locked  and  from  the  outside  apparently,  as  the  key 
is  missing." 

"  Wait  a  bit,"  I  answered.  "  Let  us  first  see 
whether  the  desk  yields  a  clue.  That,  I  suppose,  is 
the  door  that  leads  to  the  grotto." 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

SOME    STARTLING    DOCUMENTS 

rilHE  desk  was  naturally  the  first  thing  to  which 
-•-  we  turned.  Above  it  hung  a  large  picture 
which  had  attracted  my  attention  almost  as  quickly 
as  the  expanse  of  mirror  when  I  stepped  into  the 
room.  It  was  an  oil  painting  as  wide  as  the  desk, 
and  fully  five  feet  high  in  its  massive  gilt  frame. 
It  showed  a  park,  with  the  tesselated  turrets  of  a 
medieval-looking  palace  silhouetted  against  an  even- 
ing sky.  The  background  was  a  ruddy  stretch  of 
sunset  horizon,  and  the  rose-tinted  twilight  seemed 
to  filter  through  the  gaunt  leafless  trees  that  rose 
bleak  and  stark  in  the  foreground.  Around  the 
trunk  of  one  of  the  larger  trees  a  man  peered  —  a 
man  with  a  handsome,  well-bred  face,  a  high  white 
forehead  and  a  Vandyke  beard.  Then  one  saw  that 
through  the  well-cared-for  hair  on  his  hatless  head 
two  tiny  horns  rose  up,  and  that  the  nails  on  the 
fingers  of  the  shapely  hand  that  clung  to  the  trunk 
of  the  tree  were  curved  and  claw-like.  The  lips 
of  this  man  were  parted.  Was  it  in  a  smile  ? 

Remarkable  as  was  the  conception,  the  execution 
was  little  short  of  marvelous;  for  looking  from 
one  side  of  the  picture  one  saw  a  smile,  sardonic, 
cruel,  bitter,  on  those  parted  lips.  From  the  other 
side,  the  mouth  showed  a  wistful  pity  as  the  man 


SOME    STAKTLING   DOCUMENTS     241 

looked  down  upon  a  gruesome,  grinning  skeleton 
before  him. 

Above  the  picture  a  point  of  light  high  up  indi- 
cated the  ventilating  shaft.  Below  was  a  picture 
in  a  walnut  frame  with  its  face  to  the  wall.  I 
turned  it  carefully,  and  as  I  did  so  Milbrath  uttered 
an  exclamation  of  surprise.  It  was  a  water-color 
likeness  of  the  little  boy  who  had  died  in  youth, 
and  once  it  had  hung  above  the  rolltop  desk  in  the 
library.  Had  something  been  done  in  this  room 
that  Peter  Somhers  could  not  do,  or  see  done,  with 
the  merry,  candid  eyes  of  his  loved,  lost  son  upon 
him  ?  Surely  it  would  be  illogical  to  speculate  that 
anyone  but  Peter  Somhers  would  turn  that  face  to 
the  wall  —  unless,  indeed,  this  child  were  somehow 
connected  with  the  secret  of  Peter  Somhers'  associ- 
ation with  Philander  Summerfield. 

"  Will  you  examine  the  desk  ?  "  I  asked. 

Milbrath  shook  his  head. 

"If  you  are  willing  to  do  it  I  will  not,"  he 
answered. 

I  took  my  seat  in  the  swivel  chair  before  the  desk, 
the  only  chair  in  the  room,  and  Milbrath  seated 
himself  on  the  couch  close  by  me. 

At  a  touch  the  half-raised  top  of  the  desk  rolled 
swiftly  into  its  place,  and  a  blue  blotter,  literally 
covered  with  prints,  lay  before  us.  At  the  back  of 
it  stood  an  ink-well  —  a  deer's  head  with  branching 
horns  on  which  lay  three  pens  in  holders.  One  after 
another  I  picked  them  up  and  examined  them. 
Two  of  them  were  old  and  rusty  and  showed  long 
disuse.  The  third  was  comparatively  new. 

16 


The  ink  was  a  writing  fluid,  such  as  had  been  used 
on  two  of  the  warnings  that  I  had  received;  and 
on  one  side  of  the  desk  were  half  a  dozen  sheets  of 
lined  foolscap  paper  of  the  kind  used  by  my  anony- 
mous warner. 

The  pigeon-holes  were  empty,  save  for  a  bottle  of 
mucilage,  a  ball  of  twine,  and  a  paper  of  pins. 

To  the  left  of  the  blotter  was  a  year  reference 
calendar  for  that  year,  and  I  observed  with  interest 
that  the  date  uppermost  was  September  1st  —  the 
previous  day  —  when  Philander  Summerfield  had 
persisted  in  inquiring  for  me  at  the  doors  of 
Overlook. 

Gaspard's  assertion  that  the  old  man  after  each 
inquiry  had  gone  to  the  garden  and  presently  had 
disappeared,  suddenly  assumed  a  new  significance. 
He  had  waited  until  he  believed  Gaspard  had  ceased 
to  watch  him  and  had  slipped  through  the  grotto 
entrance  into  the  subterranean  passage  and  thence 
to  this  room. 

I  did  not  pause  to  acquaint  Milbrath  with  this 
revelation,  but,  having  seen  all  there  was  to  be  seen 
on  the  desk,  I  opened  one  of  the  drawers. 

It  contained  only  a  pack  of  playing  cards  in 
the  pasteboard  case  in  which  they  were  purchased. 
They  showed  considerable  use,  some  of  them  being 
bent  at  the  corners,  and  all  of  them  were  soiled. 

"Were  these  Mr.  Somhers'  or  are  they  the  prop- 
erty of  Philander  Summerfield  ?  "  I  asked  Milbrath. 

"  Uncle  enjoyed  cards,"  he  answered.  "  Solitaire 
was  a  great  game  with  him.  Often  he  'd  play  one 
game  or  another  far  into  the  night." 


SOME    STAKTLING   DOCUMENTS     243 

The  second  drawer  held  only  a  reading  glass 
with  a  lens  remarkable  for  its  strength.  The 
third  drawer  was  as  deep  as  the  other  two  together, 
and  was  divided  lengthwise  through  the  centre. 
On  one  side  was  a  pair  of  bright-hued  "  carpet  slip- 
pers "  at  sight  of  which  Milbrath  uttered  the  single 
word:  "Uncle's!" 

I  returned  the  slippers  to  their  place  in  the 
drawer,  and  picked  up  a  pair  of  boots  with  square 
toes! 

"  Ah !  "  I  cried.  "  We  've  solved  one  mystery, 
at  least  These  are  proof  that  my  anonymous 
friend  had  access  to  this  room.  Now,  what  is  this  ?  " 
My  foot  had  come  in  contact  with  something  under 
the  desk.  Peering  under  I  perceived  the  tin  cover 
of  a  typewriter. 

"  How  kind  of  him  to  leave  it !  Or  did  Mr.  Som- 
hers  have  a  typewriter?" 

"  I  never  saw  one  here,  but  I  'm  beginning  to 
think  that  fact  counts  for  nothing.  Jove!  What 
was  uncle's  idea  in  having  all  this,  anyway  ?  " 

"We'll  go  on  and  see  if  our  search  can  tell  us. 
Some  time  I  want  to  compare  the  print  that  ma- 
chine makes  with  that  of  the  notes  I  've  received." 

I  turned  to  the  left  side  of  the  desk,  where  there 
were  four  drawers. 

The  first  was  crammed  to  the  very  top  with  bun- 
dles of  letters.  These  were  divided  into  two  pack- 
ages, and  under  the  binding  string  of  each  was  a 
slip  of  paper.  On  one  slip,  in  Mr.  Somhers'  upright 
chirography,  was  inscribed :  "  From  Adelaide ;  " 
on  the  other  the  words  were :  "  To  Adelaide." 


244    THE   SNAKE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

"  His  wife,"  explained  Milbrath.  "  He  was 
deeply  attached  to  her  and  was  never  the  same  after 
her  death." 

The  second  drawer  contained  photographs.  We 
looked  them  over  hastily  and  Milbrath  told  me  who 
the  originals  were. 

There  were  several  of  Mrs.  Somhers  —  a  calm- 
looking,  sweet-faced  woman  —  and  a  full  dozen  of 
the  boy,  in  every  pose  and  expression.  There  were 
pictures  of  Francis,  the  brother,  at  various  ages,  of 
the  sister  who  had  been  Harrison  Milbrath's  mother, 
and  daguerreotypes  of  a  generation  back.  Last  of 
all  was  a  collection  of  photographs  of  Mr.  Somhers 
himself. 

One  taken  in  his  boyhood  showed  him  to  have  been 
a  chubby-faced,  bright-eyed  lad ;  another,  a  stripling 
in  his  early  teens ;  yet  another,  in  his  first  mustache 
presumably,  from  the  shadow  on  the  upper  lip. 
Another  showed  him  with  the  laughing  boy  upon 
his  shoulder,  and  it  was  the  picture  of  a  proud  and 
happy  father. 

And  so  the  pictures  ran,  showing  a  gradual  ad- 
vance in  age. 

"  He  would  never  sit  for  his  picture  after  Aunt 
Adelaide's  death,"  Milbrath  remarked.  But  in  that 
he  was  mistaken,  for  almost  directly  I  came  upon 
an  envelope  containing  two  photographs.  At  first 
glance  they  appeared  identical  —  prints  from  one 
negative.  But  a  closer  inspection  proved  such  a 
conclusion  wrong.  Were  they,  indeed,  of  the  same 
man  ?  I  seized  the  lens  and  examined  each  photo- 
graph with  minute  care. 


SOME  STARTLING  DOCUMENTS    245 

"  Do  you  see  any  difference  in  them  ? "  I  asked, 
handing  the  pictures  to  Milbrath,  who  had  been  look- 
ing over  my  shoulder  silently  as  I  studied. 

"  There  is  a  difference.  It  is  —  are  they  both 
of  Uncle  Peter  3  " 

"  That  is  what  I  have  been  wondering.  Study 
them  for  a  moment  under  the  glass.  The  dress  is 
the  same,  you  see.  Observe  the  pose.  Identical. 
The  mustache  and  the  hair.  Cut  in  the  same  way, 
you  will  notice.  The  noses  would  be  difficult  to  dis- 
tinguish if  covers  were  placed  over  the  remainder 
of  the  faces.  The  shape  of  the  heads  is  similar,  the 
turn  of  the  eyebrows  also,  but " 

"  The  eyes." 

"  That 's  it !  The  expression  of  the  eyes.  Now, 
which  resembles  Mr.  Somhers  ?  " 

"  This." 

"  Did  you  ever  see  him  like  this  other  ?  " 

"Never.  Possibly  in  his  younger  days  uncle's 
eyelids  may  have  drooped  in  that  gentle  way,  but 
I  doubt  it.  Let  us  look  back  to  the  photographs  that 
we  have  just  seen." 

We  turned  to  the  earlier  pictures  and  studied 
them  carefully,  but  not  in  one  did  we  find  the  mild- 
tempered  droop  that  characterized  the  eyelids  of 
the  second  photograph. 

"  There  's  material  here  for  an  interesting  study," 
I  observed  as  I  replaced  the  two  photographs  in  their 
envelope  and  laid  the  lens  upon  them.  "  Apparently 
we  have  stumbled  upon  some  new  evidence,  and 
when  we  are  through  we  '11  try  to  classify  it.  Hello ! 
What 's  in  this  drawer  ?  Receipts,  by  Jove,  and  of 


246     THE   SNAKE  OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

more  than  momentary  interest,  too,  as  they  are  for 
large  amounts.  No  local  tradesman's  bills,  these, 
I  '11  be  bound.  See,  they  are  in  careful  chronological 
order,  and  run  back  a  quarter  of  a  century,  or 
more."  And  wondering  I  turned  to  the  year  18 — . 
There  it  was,  as  I  hoped,  a  receipt  for  a  tombstone 
placed  over  the  grave  of  Francis  Somhers.  Fol- 
lowing it  was  a  large  collection  of  receipted  bills  for 
debts  contracted  by  Francis  Somhers  and  paid  by 
Peter  Somhers.  At  the  bottom  of  the  last  of  these 
was  scrawled  in  capitals  one  word :  "  FINIS." 

"  That  looks  as  though  Mr.  Somhers  had  reached 
the  end  of  an  unwelcome  task,"  I  commented. 
"  Still  you  never  can  tell.  If  Francis  Somhers 
were  alive  and  his  brother  had  reasons  for  wishing 
him  considered  dead  I  suppose  he  would  have  taken 
the  same  precautions.  However,  let  us  see  what  is 
in  here." 

The  fourth  drawer  contained  an  unlabeled  letter 
file,  which  looked  comparatively  new,  and  had  but 
few  papers  in  it  Evidently  it  had  not  been  long 
used. 

The  first  letters  of  the  alphabet  carried  nothing 
between  their  leaves,  "  N  "  being  the  first  letter  un- 
der which  a  filing  was  made.  It  proved  to  be  a 
notification  from  "  A.  Norcross,  Sixth  Avenue,  New 
York,"  to  the  effect  that  a  man  answering  to  re- 
quirements left  by  Mr.  Somhers  had  appeared  and 
would  return  on  May  22d,  1892  (which  was  five 
months  before  Mr.  Somhers'  decease),  at  which  time 
Mr.  Somhers  could  see  the  man  at  Mr.  Norcross' 
place. 


SOME    STAKTLING   DOCUMENTS     247 

At  the  moment  this  had  no  significance  to  us.  Its 
only  importance  to  our  eyes  then  was  that  it  was  one 
of  few  letters  apparently  deemed  by  Mr.  Somhers  of 
sufficient  value  or  interest  to  preserve. 

The  letter  "  S,"  the  only  other  letter  under  which 
filing  appeared,  proved  rich  in  material  for  there 
were  three  letters  from  Philander  Summerfield ! 

We  observed  the  dates  and  read  them  in  the  order 
of  their  writing.  I  have  them  before  me  as  I  pen 
these  words,  and  will  give  them  verbatim: 

New  York, 

MR.  PETER  SOMHERS,  Winton, 

DEAR  SIR:  If  you  will  meet  me  at  a  time  and  place 
that  you  will  please  name,  I  shall  be  able  to  give  you  a 
report  of  the  first  experiment,  which,  I  think,  will  prove 
entirely  satisfactory  to  you. 

Deferring  to  your  request  that  I  present  my  reports 
verbally,  rather  than  on  paper,  I  may  say  only  that  as 
T.  B.  S.  appeared  to  be  under  complete  delusion  as  to 
my  real  identity  the  necessity  of  a  speedy  conference 
with  you  will  be  apparent  to  you. 

Respectfully  yours, 

PHILANDER  SUMMERFIELD. 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  this  ? "  said  Milbrath 
sternly,  taking  the  letter  from  my  hand.  "  This 
gives  the  impression  that  uncle  was  involved  in 
some  shady  transaction.  I  can  hardly  credit  that. 
What  have  the  other  letters  to  say  ? " 

New  York, 

MR.  PETER  SOMHERS,  Winton, 

DEAR  SIR:  I  have  considered  your  second  proposal, 
and  after  due  consideration  am  prepared  to  accept  the 


248    THE   SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

conditions  and  the  remuneration  you  offered.  Kindly 
appoint  a  time  and  place  where  we  may  confer  as  to 
the  necessary  details, 

Respectfully  yours, 

PHILANDER  SUMMERFIELD. 

"  The  other,"  said  Milbrath  tersely,  with  knit 
brows. 

The  third  letter,  like  the  two  that  preceded  it, 
was  signed  by  Philander  Summerfield,  and  began 
in  the  same  formal  way. 

"  As  per  your  instructions,"  it  ran,  "  I  will  ar- 
rive in  Beverly  on  Thursday,  October  12th " 

"  Good  heavens !  "  interrupted  Milbrath,  "  the  day 
of  the  murder !  Summerfield  is  our  man  then !  " 

"  This  seems  proof.     Let  me  read  on :  " 

I  will  arrive  as  on  the  former  occasion  and  will  enter 
by  the  private  way. 

"  And  now  for  this  last  paper,"  I  said,  opening 
a  folded  sheet.  "Whew!  It  looks  like  a  con- 
tract. And  it  is  one,  by  Jingo!  Now  we  shall 
know,  perhaps,  what  the  old  fellows  were  up  to !  " 

Milbrath  leaned  eagerly  over  my  shoulder  as  I 
read  aloud: 

Beginning  on  this  day,  Thursday,  October  12th, 
1892,  I,  Philander  Summerfield,  formerly,  and  to  date 

residing  at Street,  New  York  City,  in 

consideration  of  sums  of  money  previously  paid  by 
check  and  in  consideration  of  the  further  payment  at 
the  end  of  twelve  months  of  twenty  thousand  dollars 
by  Peter  Somhers,  of  Winton,  State  of ,  do  agree 


" '  And  now  for  this  last  paper,'  I  said,  opening  a  folded  sheet." 
Ptige  248. 


SOME    STARTLING    DOCUMENTS     249 

to  impersonate  said  Peter  Somhers  to  the  best  of  my 
knowledge  and  ability  appearing  to  be  him  during 
the  next  twelve  months. 

Signed  PHILANDER  SUMMERFIELD. 

Pinned  to  this  remarkable  document  was  a  sheet 
of  paper  similar  in  size  and  written  by  the  same 
hand,  unquestionably  by  Mr.  Somhers: 

I,  Peter  Somhers,  of  the  town  of  Winton,  State  of 
,  do  hereby  agree  to  pay  to  Philander  Summer- 
field,  formerly,  and  to  date,  residing  at 

Street,  New  York  City,  the  sum  of  twenty  thousand 
dollars,  over  and  above  thirty  thousand  dollars  already 
paid  by  me  in  check,  for  a  faithful  impersonation  of 
me  during  one  year,  or  for  such  a  portion  of  one  year 
as  I  see  fit  to  demand  the  masquerade.  Said  twenty 
thousand  dollars  to  be  paid  immediately  upon  the 
release  of  Philander  Summerfield  from  this  contract. 
Signed  PETER  SOMHERS. 


CHAPTER    XXVIH 

A    THKILLING    ESCAPE 

is  the  last  straw!"  cried  Milbrath,  tak- 
ing  up  the  extraordinary  documents  and  star- 
ing at  them  in  a  dazed  sort  of  way.  "  What,  in 
heaven's  name,  does  it  all  mean  ?  Was  Uncle  Peter 
crazy  ?  " 

"  It  begins  to  look  so,"  I  assented  dryly.  "  Or 
deep-dyed.  It  means,  also,  that  this  second 
photograph  is  without  doubt  of  Philander  Summer- 
field,"  and  I  tapped  the  envelope  containing  the 
pictures.  "It  shows  us  again  what  a  change  in  a 
man's  face  a  beard  will  make." 

"  But  his  purpose  ?  "  persisted  Milbrath.  "  If 
we  find  this  Summerfield  and  bring  him  to  justice, 
are  we  to  drag  uncle's  name  into  the  mud  ?  " 

"  That  is  of  course,  a  question  for  the  future. 
Perhaps  we  can  avoid  it.  Jingo !  It 's  past  mid- 
night. Well,  I  'm  for  bed,  with  your  permission. 
Gaspard  has  arranged  for  you  to  take  the  room 
next  to  me  —  your  old  room,  I  believe.  To-morrow 
we'll  get  at  this  puzzle  again.  In  the  sunlight  we 
shall  be  able  to  do  as  much  again,  and  to  think 
twice  as  clearly." 

Milbrath  rose  reluctantly,  and  we  ascended  the 
stairs  in  silence.  Gaspard  had  long  since  preceded 
us,  and  we  could  hear  the  mechanical  regularity  of 
his  sonorous  comfort  in  a  distant  room. 


A   THKILLING   ESCAPE  251 

At  the  door  of  his  room  Milbrath  hesitated. 

"  We  have  found  evidence,  yet  it  is  n't  proof," 
he  said  as  if  speaking  to  himself.  "  What  need 
had  Uncle  Peter  for  a  masquerader?  I  dare  say 
we  '11  find  that  we  are  off  the  track  now ;  that  the 
papers  were  a  joke."  He  spoke  eagerly  and  as  if 
anxious  that  I  should  agree  with  him,  but  without 
conviction. 

"  Nothing  is  impossible,  as  you  remarked  a  week 
ago,"  I  observed.  "  But  we  've  gained  one  point 
that  we  must  not  overlook.  Philander  Summer- 
field  was  with  Mr.  Somhers  on  that  fateful  twelfth 
of  October." 

Milbrath  nodded. 

"  And  now  it 's  up  to  us  to  get  at  this  Summerfield 
and  hear  what  he  has  to  say  for  himself,"  he  said. 

Milbrath  was  already  astir  when  I  went  down-stairs 
in  the  morning,  and  I  found  him  in  the  little  room. 

"  Until  I  came  here  I  could  not  believe  that  I 
had  not  had  the  nightmare,"  he  said,  as  I  entered. 
He  held  the  contracts  in  his  hand  as  he  spoke. 

"Better  leave  it  all  until  after  breakfast,"  I 
advised. 

Half  an  hour  later  we  rose  from  the  breakfast 
table  and  with  one  accord  moved  toward  the  library. 
As  we  entered  the  room  a  mufiled  exclamation  came 
from  the  direction  of  the  secret  chamber,  followed 
immediately  by  the  soft,  quick  closing  of  a  door. 

Like  a  flash  came  the  thought  that  we  had  sur- 
prised Philander  Summerfield,  and  that  he  had  fled 
through  the  underground  passage.  I  glanced  at 
Milbrath  and  saw  that  he  was  of  the  same  opinion. 


252    THE   SNARE   OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

"  Run  to  the  grotto,"  I  cried,  "  and  head  him  off. 
I  will  follow  him  somehow  and  meet  you !  " 

In  a  trice  Milbrath  had  acted  upon  my  suggestion, 
and  calling  at  the  top  of  my  voice  for  Gaspard,  I 
seized  a  candle  from  one  of  the  candelabra  upon 
the  bookcases  and  had  it  lighted  just  as  Gaspard 
came  running  in,  his  eyes  starting  from  his  head. 

"You  call,  m'sieu?" 

"  Yes ;    I  want  your  help  instantly." 

I  fully  expected  to  find  the  door  which  led  from 
the  little  room  locked,  and  it  was,  indeed,  fastened 
against  us. 

Gaspard  gazed  about  him  in  mute  surprise,  for 
I  did  not  give  him  an  opportunity  to  express  him- 
self. 

"  Our  shoulders  to  this  door,  Gaspard.  Heavens ! 
Why  did  we  take  away  the  sledge  and  the  axe  ?  The 
man  we  want  is  .behind  it.  Now!  One,  two, 
three " 

Bang! 

Gaspard's  lithe  and  muscular  body  with  my 
heavier  one  crashed  against  the  paneling.  There 
was  a  sound  of  deep  cracking,  but  the  wood  did 
not  splinter.  These  were  good  doors,  surely,  that 
Peter  Somhers  had  selected  to  guard  his  hidden 
chamber ! 

Again  with  one  impulse  we  threw  ourselves  upon 
the  casement.  That  time  there  was  a  tremendous 
crash  of  splintering  wood  and  I  was  conscious  of 
rolling  over  and  over,  bump  after  bump,  down  some 
stairs.  Later  I  found  that  it  was  a  very  short  and 
shallow  flight,  but  at  the  moment  the  length  seemed 


A    THKILLING   ESCAPE  253 

interminable.  Gaspard  followed  the  same  course, 
and  landed  on  top  of  me  with  a  volley  of  French 
oaths. 

We  were  upon  our  feet  immediately,  a  trifle 
stunned,  perhaps,  but  with  enough  reason  left  to 
act  quickly,  and  in  a  trice  Gaspard  relighted  the 
sputtering  candle  and  put  it  in  my  hand. 

"  Come,"  I  said  under  my  breath.  "  Follow  me 
and  have  your  eyes  open." 

Ahead  I  could  see  only  darkness,  at  the  sides  but 
the  rough  stones  and  crumbling  mortar  of  the  pas- 
sage. So  narrow  was  it  that  we  walked  in  single 
file.  An  odor  of  earth-mould  filled  our  nostrils,  and 
I  found  myself  fancying  what  a  heavy  rain  might 
do  for  this  subterranean  corridor. 

After  a  few  yards  an  abrupt  bend  brought  us  to 
a  glimpse  of  day  not  more  than  twenty  feet  ahead. 

I  ran  forward  swiftly.  But  Gaspard  and  I  were 
alone  in  the  tunnel,  and  at  its  end,  which  was,  in- 
deed, the  grotto  entrance  wide  open  now,  stood  Mil- 
brath  —  alone. 

"  The  old  fellow  must  be  the  very  devil,"  Mil- 
brath  cried.  "  I  came  from  you  at  top  speed,  but 
when  I  reached  here  this  entrance  was  as  you  see  it, 
and  no  mark  or  sound  indicated  the  course  he  had 
taken." 

In  my  disappointment  I  felt  for  the  first  time 
the  bruises  I  had  suffered  in  my  flight  down  the 
steps  and  I  looked  down,  ruefully  enough,  I  sup- 
pose, at  my  torn  and  dusty  clothes.  And,  notwith- 
standing the  tensity  of  his  feelings  at  the  moment, 
Milbrath  laughed. 


254    THE  SNAKE   OF   CIKCTJMSTA^CE 

"  It  appears  that  you  have  suffered  something 
besides  defeat,"  he  said,  "  I  hope  you  are  not 
injured  ? " 

"  This  is  nothing  —  but  losing  him !  How  in 
the  name  of  Jupiter  could  he  get  away  ?  Has  he 
wings?"  •>-.;, 

We  examined  the  turf  and  the  gravel  about  the 
grotto,  but  there  was  no  trace  there  of  the  fugitive. 

"  We  know  that  he  is  somewhere  in  the  vicinity," 
I  said.  "  Here,  Gaspard !  Get  the  bell  you  have 
used  to  call  me  when  I  'm  not  in  sight.  Go  yonder 
to  the  highest  point  of  land  on  the  place,  and  if  you 
see  a  man  not  Mr.  Milbrath  or  me  ring  the  bell. 
Do  you  comprehend?" 

"  Oui,  m'sieu." 

"Then  be  quick!" 

So  literally  did  Gaspard  interpret  my  instruc- 
tions that  he  was  on  sentinel  duty  by  the  time  Mil- 
brath and  I  had  resolved  on  our  simple  plan  for 
action. 

Milbrath  went  in  one  direction,  looking  for  the 
man  or  for  some  sign  that  he  had  passed  that  way, 
while  I  moved  toward  another  point.  Between  us 
we  scoured  the  grounds  and  met  again  at  the  grotto 
door  —  without  news. 

"  There  's  a  train  for  Boston  at  ten-two.  Shall 
I  go  over  to  Beverly  and  be  on  the  lookout  for  the 
old  fellow  to  take  it  ? "  Milbrath  asked. 

"  That  is  a  good  idea.  And  wire  to  the  Pingree 
Agency  to  have  every  train  that  passes  through  here 
watched  until  further  notice  at  the  Park  Square 
Station.  That  ought  to  get  him." 


A    THKILLING   ESCAPE  255 

"  If  he  is  Summerfield,  and  from  New 
York ?" 

"  The  south  bound  trains  must  be  watched,  that 
is  true.  I'll  take  temporary  board  at  the  Winton 
station,  and  we  can  keep  each  other  informed  by 
wire.  I  '11  order  the  horses  at  once." 

Milbrath  looked  amused. 

"  Would  n't  you  feel  more  comfortable  in  a  dif- 
ferent suit  ? "  he  inquired,  eying  my  split  trouser 
legs  and  dust-grimed  coat.  "  Let  me  give  directions 
this  time." 

In  the  excitement  of  the  moment  I  had  forgotten 
my  appearance  and  my  aching  joints. 

"  Yes,"  I  said.  "  Order  whichever  horse  you 
prefer  for  yourself  and  I  '11  take  the  other  one. 
Now,  watch  me  disappear !  " 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

SUMMERFIELD'S  PAST 

FROM  the  Beverly  station  Milbrath  sent  me  this 
succinct  message : 

Eleven  A.  M.    Nothing  doing. 

Later  he  telegraphed  that  he  had  decided  to  go  on 
to  Boston  to  see  how  things  were  progressing  at  that 
end  of  the  line. 

Eor  my  part  I  scanned  closely  each  of  the  few 
individuals  who  boarded  the  trains  that  left  Winton 
during  the  twenty-four  hours  that  followed,  and  I 
felt  confident  that  Mr.  Summerfield  was  not  of  them. 
As  Milbrath  communicated,  late  on  the  second  day, 
that  the  old  fellow  had  not -yet  arrived  in  Boston, 
the  inference  was  that  he  was  still  in  the  vicinity  of 
Overlook. 

Hutton  grew  curious  because  of  my  frequent 
visits  to  his  station,  and  I  confided  to  him  that  I 
was  on  the  lookout  for  the  peculiar  old  man  who 
had  excited  his  interest.  I  dare  say  he  gathered  a 
bit  more  by  his  shrewd  cross-examining  to  this  ad- 
mission, but  he  was  far  from  suspecting  the  whole 
truth,  and  I  gained  his  support,  for  he  promised  to 
inform  me  immediately  whenever  Mr.  Summerfield 
appeared  at  the  Winton  station  again. 

This,  however,  was  not  until  the  afternoon  fol- 
lowing Milbrath's  departure.  By  that  time  I  had 


SUMMERFIELD'S   PAST  257 

come  to  feel  that  important  as  it  might  be  to  get 
Mr.  Summerfield,  his  capture  just  then  was  scarcely 
more  important  than  information  about  him  and  his 
past  with  which  to  confront  and,  if  need  be,  force 
him  to  a  confession  of  the  truth  when  we  laid  hands 
on  him. 

I  had  carefully  examined  the  walls  of  the  under- 
ground passage  with  a  view  to  finding  a  way  by 
which  Summerfield  had  eluded  us  with  such  ap- 
parent ease,  but  they  were  of  stone  and  earth  and 
mortar,  without  opening  of  any  kind  save  at  the 
ends,  and  I  was  forced  to  believe  that  he  had  es- 
caped solely  through  the  aid  of  his  swift  feet  —  a 
possibility  seemingly  incredible  in  one  of  his  age. 

The  contracts,  the  telltale  letters,  and  the  two 
photographs,  so  like  and  yet  so  unlike,  I  had  taken 
the  precaution  to  fasten  securely  in  one  of  my 
pockets  before  I  left  Overlook,  and  when  I  had  con- 
cluded my  arrangements  with  Hutton  I  drove 
homeward  with  a  new  plan  for  action. 

"  Gaspard,"  I  announced,  "  I  am  going  to  New 
York  on  the  evening  train.  Be  prepared  to  go  with 
me." 

"  Oui,  m'sieu."  Gaspard's  face  grew  long,  never- 
theless. He  hesitated,  and  then  asked: 

"  Iss  it  for  all  zee  time,  m'sieu  ? " 

I  restrained  a  smile.  The  anxiety  expressed  by 
Gaspard's  plastic  features  could  denote  but  one 
thing:  distress  at  leaving  Delia,  the  fresh-cheeked 
young  Receiver  of  the  Hairpin,  before  whom  Gas- 
pard was  wearing  off  the  skin  on  his  middle-aged 
knees. 

17 


258    THE   SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

"  Probably  not,"  I  answered,  "  I  may  be  gone 
only  a  few  Hays." 

"  Ah !  m'sieu."  Gaspard's  face  glowed  again. 
"  Possibly,  zen,  m'sieu  vould  not  care  zat  I  remain 
ici?" 

"  Gaspard,"  I  said,  with  grave  pretense  at  stern- 
ness. "  It  is  of  Delia  that  you  think,  not  of  me." 

"  Non !  non !  m'sieu.  Non !  Eet  is  of  m'sieu 
alvays  —  virst,"  protested  Gaspard,  an  embodiment 
of  gesticulation.  "Mais  zee  petite  Delia.  Ah!  to 
leave  her  now !  " 

I  considered.  I  did  not  need  to  have  Gaspard 
with  me.  So  little  need  would  I  have  of  him,  in- 
deed, that  I  could  but  send  him  about  his  own  busi- 
ness as  soon  as  we  reached  the  city;  but  if  I  left 
him  alone  at  Overlook  was  it  not  possible  that  Sum- 
merfield,  still  in  the  vicinity,  might  burn  the  house 
in  the  hope  of  destroying  the  papers  which  he  must 
assume  were  discovered^?  And  as  night  would  be 
the  logical  time  for  him  to  do  the  deed,  might  it 
not  be  while  the  invincible  —  and  unawakable  — 
Gaspard  slept? 

On  the  other  hand,  if  I  left  Overlook  deserted, 
the  place  offered  a  safe  refuge  for  Summerfield, 
who,  doubtless,  would  soon  discover  that  it  was 
vacated. 

"  If  I  leave  you,  Gaspard,"  I  said,  "  you  must 
go  to  the  cottage  to  sleep.  Are  you  willing  to  do 
that?" 

Gaspard's  expression  said  plainly  that  he  was  not 
willing,  but  he  answered : 

"If  m'sieu  desire  —  mais " 


SUMMEKFIELD'S    PAST  259 

"  Very  well.  I  '11  speak  to  Mrs.  Horsford  about 
preparing  a  bed  for  you.  And  you  must  keep  your 
word,"  I  added  sternly.  "  Your  '  Beel-ze-bub '  is 
around  and  he  may  burn  the  house  while  you  sleep. 
You  know  how  you  do  sleep !  " 

Gaspard  shrugged  his  shoulders  in  a  manner 
which  committed  Beelzebub  and  all  fear  of  him  to 
the  eternal  bow-wows,  as  he  rode  off  with  a  telegram 
to  Milbrath  asking  him  to  join  me  that  evening,  if 
possible,  at  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel  in  New  York. 

Then  I  proceeded  to  the  stables  where  Horsford 
was  tossing  hay.  Horsford  had  not  forgotten  his 
gratitude  to  me.  His  wife,  for  nearly  two  weeks 
free  from  the  influence  of  her  sister,  had,  to  all  ap- 
pearances, settled  down  to  a  quiet  contentment  with 
her  Joe  and  her  child,  and  Horsford's  faith  that  the 
condition  would  last  was  unbounded.  His  apprecia- 
tion of  the  part  I  had  played  in  his  domestic  affairs 
was  shown  in  a  hundred  small  ways,  and  he  had  en- 
deavored to  learn  something  about  La  Cour  for  me. 
It  was  concerning  this  matter  that  I  went  to  the 
stable. 

"  Any  news  ? "  I  asked. 

"  Not  exactly,  sir,  but  there  's  something  'anging 
in  the  hair  that  may  mean  aught  to  you.  I  was  at 
Jim's  'ouse  this  noon^  sir,  to  get  the  money  'e  should 
'ave  paid  me  before  now  hon  the  gray  mare.  You 
know  the  one,  sir.  'E  took  'er  hof  me  a  month  back 
and  said  'e  would  pay  hat  once  —  which  'e  'as  never 
done.  I  must  'ave  the  money  to-morrow  or  the 
roan  colt,  which  I  got  in  place  hof  Grayskin,  will  go 
back  to  Jenkins.  Hand  so  I  told  Jim. 


260    THE   SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

"  '  Go  t'  ell !  '  —  them  was  'is  words,  sir  — 
'  You  '11  'ave  the  money  when  I  can  get  hit.' 

"  '  When  '11  that  be  ? '  I  arsks. 

"  '  Maybe  to-morrow ;  maybe  sooner.  I  'II  'ave 
it,  any'ow,  hor  somebody  goes  t'  jail  —  somebody 
not  far  away  from  'ere  just  now,  neither,'  an'  Jim 
looks  hoff  with  a  wink  toward  the  front  room  where, 
I  took  hit,  there  ware  somebody  to  'ear." 

My  impulse  was  to  find  a  pretext  to  visit  Arms 
at  once  and  investigate  the  grounds  for  Horsford's 
suspicion,  for  if  it  were  not  La  Cour  who  was  to 
furnish  Jim  with  money  or  go  to  jail,  who  was  it  ? 
I  wanted  to  know.  But  a  glance  at  my  watch 
showed  me  that  I  should  have  barely  time  to  prepare 
for  my  trip  and  get  to  the  station,  if  I  were  to  reach 
town  that  night.  So,  with  a  commission  to  Hors- 
ford  to  ascertain  all  that  he  could  in  my  interest,  I 
hurried  back  to  the  house. 

Because  of  a  wrecked  freight  train  near  Hart- 
ford I  reached  the  Grand  Central  two  hours  behind 
scheduled  time,  and  Milbrath  was  installed  in  his 
room  at  the  hotel  when  I  arrived  there.  His  mobile 
face  showed  added  lines  of  anxiety,  and  from  the 
occasional  quiver  of  his  eyelids,  it  was  obvious  that 
he  was  keyed  to  a  high  pitch. 

"  We  've  got  to  settle  this  business  somehow, 
or  you'll  be  on  your  back,"  I  remarked  after  a 
moment  or  two  of  commonplaces. 

"  Oh,  I  shall  be  all  right  in  the  morning,"  he 
answered  with  a  faint  smile.  "  Now  tell  me  what 
headway  you  have  made  to-day." 

"  None,   absolutely  none,"  and  I  recounted  my 


SUMMERFIELD'S    PAST  261 

movements  of  the  past  twenty-four  hours.  "  And 
you  ? "  I  queried  in  conclusion.  "  Perhaps  you 
have  more  to  relate  ?  " 

Milbrath  shook  his  head. 

"  I  drove  to  the  house  in  Concord  Street  where 
Mr.  Summerfield  went  the  day  I  chased  him.  He 
had  roomed  there,  the  landlady  said,  but  he  had 
given  up  his  room  (telling  her  that  he  was  leaving 
town)  last  Thursday  —  the  very  day,  you  see,  that 
I  saw  him." 

"  He  has  been  in  Winton  so  recently,  do  you 
suppose  he  has  a  hiding-place  there  ? " 

"  It  looks  like  that.  Then  arises  the  question  of 
where  ?  " 

"God  alone  knows,"  I  answered.  But  as  the 
words  passed  my  lips  an  idea  leaped  into  my  brain 
and  kept  me  silent  with  rapid  thought,  staring  be- 
fore me  until  Milbrath's  voice  roused  me. 

"  You  look  as  if  you  were  seeing  a  ghost,"  he 
said  with  a  short  laugh,  following  the  direction  of 
my  gaze. 

"  Some  ideas  are  ghosts,  I  believe,"  I  returned, 
answering  his  laugh.  "  What  were  we  saying  ?  Ah 
yes !  Did  you  communicate  with  the  men  who  are 
watching  the  doctor's  house  ?  " 

"  No,  for  I  do  not  believe  that  he  has  left  Boston 
permanently.  The  knowledge  that  we  are  on  his 
track  may  prove  a  little  wearing  on  his  nerves,  in 
which  case  he  may  have  need  to  visit  the  doctor 
again." 

"  If  he  has  n't  got  wind  of  our  visit  there." 

"  True.     At  all  events  I  said  nothing  to  the  de- 


262    THE   SNAKE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

tectives.  Instead  I  ordered  another  to  watch  the 
post  office  for  him.  I  endeavored,  through  a  ruse, 
to  learn  whether  Summerfield  had  ordered  his  mail 
forwarded  somewhere,  but  I  got  nothing  there,  of 
course.  I  hope  that  we  shall  have  better  success  to- 
morrow." 

And  we  did  have. 

The  men's  lodging  house  in Street  where 

Philander  Summerfield  had  once  roomed  was  easily 
found.  It  was  of  the  plainest  and  shabbiest  type 
of  that  order  of  house.  Mr.  Grayson,  the  manager, 
had  no  difficulty  in  recalling  Philander  Summerfield, 
and  was  ready  enough  to  talk  about  him. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  said,  "  I  remember  old  '  P.  S.,'  of 
course  I  do.  I  had  an  experience  with  him  I  don't 
have  with  every  lodger.  Fine  man,  too,  was  he." 

"  What  became  of  him  when  he  left  your  place  ?  " 
I  asked.  , 

"  Why,  I  believe  he  went  away  to  join  a  brother 
who  had  money.  He  came  here  once  —  the  brother 
—  as  much  like  '  P.  S.'  as  you  could  well  fancy 
brothers  to  be." 

"  You  have  no  recollection,  I  suppose,  where  this 
brother  lived?" 

"  I  never  knew.  I  dare  say  I  should  never  have 
thought  twice  about  him  except  that  when  'P.  S.' 
first  came  here  he  tried  to  kill  himself  —  shut  up 
his  room  and  turned  on  the  gas  —  you  know  the 
way.  As  it  happened  I  passed  the  door  of  his  room 
about  that  time  and  after  knocking  several  times 
and  getting  no  answer  why,  I  just  broke  in  the 
door.  He  was  unconscious,  but  I  contrived  to  bring 


SUMMERFIELD'S    PAST  263 

him  to  without  calling  in  help  or  letting  anybody 
know  what  had  been  going  on.  I  meant,  neverthe- 
less, to  hand  him  over  to  the  police.  But  when  he 
was  himself  again  and  knew  what  had  happened 
and  what  I  meant  to  do  he  begged  like  a  thief  for 
me  to  spare  him  that  disgrace.  He  told  me  then 
that  he  was  without  a  living  relative,  had  come 
to  the  end  of  his  resources,  could  not  find  work,  and 
was  too  proud  to  beg,  yet  he  could  n't  endure  the 
publicity  —  even  in  this  city  where  nobody  knew 
him  —  of  being  brought  before  a  magistrate  as  a 
pauper  or  for  attempted  self-destruction.  He 
begged  me  to  let  him  die  and  sink  into  a  nameless 
grave. 

"  I  told  him,  even  if  he  was  old  enough,  most,  to 
be  my  father,  that  if  he  'd  perk  up  and  act  like  a 
man,  I  'd  give  him  his  food  and  a  bed  for  what  he 
could  do  to  help  me  around  here.  Maybe  then,  after 
a  while,  he  'd  find  a  better  job. 

"  That  seemed  to  cheer  him  a  bit,  and  he  plodded 
around  faithfully  enough  for  almost  two  months. 
Then  he  begun  to  act  queer  —  wonderfully  sort  of 
happy.  Once  he  went  out  and  was  gone  most  of  the 
day.  When  he  come  back  he  had  on  a  new  suit  of 
clothes,  hat,  vest,  everything  new,  even  to  his  collar 
and  cravat  and  of  fine  material,  too.  His  eyes  were 
shining  and  he  looked  like  a  different  man. 

"  '  I  've  come  across  a  streak  of  good  luck,  Gray- 
son,'  says  he  in  kind  of  a  jolly  .way  for  him. 
'  Here 's  five  dollars  now  on  account,  and  pretty 
soon  maybe  I  '11  be  able  to  pay  you  back,  in  a  pecuni- 
ary way,  at  least,  for  all  you  've  done  for  me.' 


264    THE  SNAKE   OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

"  Naturally  I  was  curious  and  wanted  to  hear 
more,  but  no  more  would  he  tell.  After  that  he 
would  dress  up  in  his  new  suit  and  go  out  quite 
often.  Perhaps  he  'd  be  gone  only  for  a  few  hours, 
perhaps  it  would  be  for  a  day  or  a  day  and  a  night. 
But  he'd  always  come  back  with  money  in  his 
trousers  pocket  which  he  'd  chink  gleefully  and 
sometimes  show  me  —  happy  as  a  boy  with  a  new 
jackknife. 

"  Then  one  evening  in  walked  a  man  and  asked 
for  Mr.  Philander  Summerfield,  and  for  a  minute 
I  thought  it  was  old  'P.  S.'  himself  playing  a  joke 
on  me. 

"  '  G'  wan !  '  says  I.  l  You  can't  fool  me,  Sum- 
merfield. I  know  you.' 

"  The  man  got  red  in  the  face  —  even  his  eyes 
got  red  and  he  stamped  his  foot  and  brought  his 
fist  down  on  my  desk  in  a  way  that  made  me  look  to 
see  if  the  inkwell  had  n't  gone  over.  Then,  sud- 
denly, he  laughed. 

"  '  You  're  not  to  blame,  I  suppose,  for  thinking 
me  Mr.  Summerfield  if  we  look  so  much  alike,  but 
you  never  saw  me  before.  I  'm  his  —  brother.' 

"  Grol !  You  could  have  knocked  me  into  a  cocked 
hat  with  a  feather.  But  I  apologized  as  best  I 
could  and  went  to  call  'P.  S.' 

"He  came  with  me  in  those  fine  clothes  of  his, 
and  the  two  old  fellows,  as  alike  as  peas  in  a  pod, 
went  off  in  a  corner  of  that  room  yonder  and  talked 
for  a  while  in  low  tones.  Then  they  went  out 
together. 

"  Next  day  '  P.  S.'  come  to  me. 


SUMMEKFIELD'S    PAST  265 

" '  Grayson,'  says  he,  '  I  'm  going  to  leave  you. 
I  Ve  got  a  good  position  at  last  that  is  going  to 
make  me  a  rich  man,  and  I  will  not  forget  you ;  on 
that  you  may  depend.  You  have  done  more  for  me 
than  I  can  tell  you.' 

"  l  Your  brother  has  helped  you  ? '  I  asked. 

"  '  My  brother  ? '  he  said,  kind  of  surprised. 

"  l  Why,  yes ;  the  man  who  came  for  you  last 
night  He  said  he  was  your  brother.' 

"  '  Oh,  did  he  tell  you  that  ? '  said  Summerfield. 
'  Well,  yes,  I  'm  going  with  him.' 

"  He  went  away  then,  never  saying  a  word  about 
money,  but  in  a  day  or  two  a  check  for  a  hundred 
dollars  come.  That  was  more  than  he  had  any  need 
to  send  me,  but  you  can  think  what  my  surprise 
was  when  pretty  soon  along  come  a  check  for  an- 
other hundred,  then  another  and  another,  which 
made  four  hundred  all  together,  with  never  an  ad- 
dress so  that  I  could  send  him  a  word  of  thanks. 
That  ended  it" 

"  Have  you  never  seen  him  since  then  ? " 

"  Never  to  this  day.  I  've  often  wondered  what 
had  become  of  the  old  fellow,  and  why  he  wanted 
to  keep  back  his  relationship  to  that  other  man. 
You  know  he  told  me  once  that  he  hadn't  any  re- 
lations. Had  some  trouble  with  them,  I  suppose." 

"  Did  he  never  mention  where  his  home  had  once 
been?" 

"  I  don't  know  as  he  ever  did  "  —  thoughtfully  — 
"  but  once,  when  we  were  talking  together  —  we 
used  to  be  sort  of  crony-like  together  sometimes  — 
he  told  me  about  teaching  in  a  college  in  Virginia, 


266    THE   SNAKE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

not  such  a  great  time  before,  I  judged.  That  was 
as  near  as  I  ever  got  to  knowing  where  he  lived,  I 
guess." 

"  How  old  a  man  was  Mr.  Summerfield  then  ? " 

"  When  he  lived  with  me  ?  Why,  he  said  once 
he  was  something  past  fifty.  Seemed  to  me  he 
looked  older,  though  I  'm  no  judge  of  ages.  Say, 
what  are  all  these  questions  for,  anyhow  ?  Know 
old 'P.  S.' do  you?" 

"  We  want  to  find  him,"  I  answered  evasively. 
"  Now  here  are  two  photographs.  I  wonder  whether 
you  will  recognize  them  ?  " 

I  took  from  its  envelope  the  picture  Milbrath  be- 
lieved to  be  of  his  uncle. 

"  That 's  him !  "  Grayson  exclaimed  the  instant 
he  saw  it  "  A  fine  picture  of  him,  too,  only  — 
well,  there 's  something  a  little  wrong  when  you 
come  to  look." 

"  This,  then  ? "  I  said  bringing  forth  the  second 
photograph. 

"  That 's  him  again.     Looks  more  like  him,  too." 

"  Don't  you  think  one  of  these  pictures  is  of  his 
brother  ? " 

"  Gol !  I  never  thought  of  that,"  and  Grayson 
took  both  photographs  and  scrutinized  them  care- 
fully. 

"Well,  this  is  the  brother,  then,"  he  said  in- 
dicating the  picture  of  Mr.  Somhers. 

"Why  do  you  think  so?" 

"  Can't  tell  you.  I  'm  no  artist.  I  know  this  is 
'  P.  S.'  though." 

"  One  more  question,  Mr.  Grayson,  and  then  I 


SUMMEKFIELD'S    PAST  267 

will  detain  you  no  longer.  How  long  ago  was  it 
that  Mr.  Summerfield  was  here  ?  " 

"  Just  about  the  time  you  said  —  a  little  more 
than  three  years  ago  he  came.  It  was  the  last  of 
September,  I  know,  when  he  went  away." 

We  thanked  Mr.  Grayson  and  left  with  him  a  box 
of  cigars  that  we  had  brought  in  case  we  found  that 
he  would  use  them,  and  got  out  of  the  house. 

"  I  never  expected  such  success  as  we  've  had 
to-day,"  I  exclaimed  when  we  were  again  upon  the 
street.  "  Our  next  move  must  be  to  send  an  adver- 
tisement to  the  Richmond  and  Charlotteville,  Vir- 
ginia, papers." 

And  this  is  the  message  that  I  sent: 

Wanted  Immediately:  Information  concerning  Phi- 
lander Summerfield  at  the  time  of  his  residence  in  Vir- 
ginia. $100  reward.  E.  B.,  Parker  House,  Boston, 
Mass. 


CHAPTER   XXX 

HOESFOKD    IN    DURANCE 

A  S  we  left  the  telegraph  office  at  Fifth  Avenue 
-^-  and  23rd  Street,  I  felt  a  touch  upon  my  arm 
and  turned  about  to  find  at  my  side  a  small  man  who 
looked  up  into  my  face  with  furtive  eyes  and  a  sly 
smile. 

"  Barney  Rafferts,  by  all  that 's  unholy !  "  I  ex- 
claimed. "  Been  shadowing  us,  Barney  ?  " 

"  Not  this  time.  It 's  a  gory-hued  divorce  I  'm 
on  to-day,"  he  laughed. 

"  '  Not  this  time  ? '  Ah !  By  the  way,  Barney, 
you  're  just  the  man  I  've  been  wanting  to  see. 
What 's  the  name  of  the  old  fellow  who  put  you  on 
my  track  six  weeks  or  "so  ago  ?  " 

Barney  shifted  his  eyes  and  showed  his  teeth  with 
pleasant  intention. 

"  Say,  I  think  that 's  worth  more  'n  an  answer, 
don't  you  ? " 

"  Maybe  it  is.  How  would  this  please  you  ?  "  and 
I  produced  a  ten-dollar  bill. 

Barney's  eyes  flashed  greedily,  but  they  had  seen 
a  companion  to  that  bank  note  in  my  pocket,  and 
he  answered : 

"  That  might  quiet  my  sensitive  conscience  long 
enough  for  me  to  admit  there  was  a  man  who  had 
me  look  you  up,  but  as  to  his  name.  Well,  you  see 
my  mem'ry  ain't  first  rate  always." 


HOKSFORD    IN    DURANCE         269 

"  Perhaps  this  other  bill  will  refresh  your 
memory,  you  fox !  " 

"  Just  's  like  's  not  it  will.  Let 's  see  how  they 
feel.  Genuine,  ain't  they  ?  See  'em  disappear  into 
my  pocket  —  so?  There!  The  old  fellow's  name, 
did  you  say  ?  To  tell  the  truth  he  did  n't  confide  in 
me  that  far,  but  he  was  old  and  had  gray  hair  — 
a  beard  ditto,  and " 

"  If  you  don't  know  his  name,  how  dare  you  take 
my  money  ? "  I  roared  in  his  ear. 

"  Now  don't  excite  yourself,"  said  Barney  im- 
perturbably.  "  I  '11  come  to  an  interesting  part 
presently.  He  did  n't  tell  me  his  name,  but  I  looked 
on  the  register  at  the  Plaza  when  I  went  up  to  report, 
and  he  was  down  as  —  Summerfield,  of  Boston." 

"  And  you  followed  me  home  that  night !  Well, 
all  is  fair  in  war,  I  suppose.  How  did  you  manage 
to  get  the  note  in  the  house  the  next  day  ? " 

"  Easy !  Just  hid  behind  a  vestibule  door  till 
somebody  went  in  who  did  n't  latch  the  door  behind 
him.  Great  trick,  that  Helloa!  What's  going 
on  over  there  ? " 

We  had  reached  our  hotel  by  this  time,  and  Bar- 
ney's eyes  indicated  a  gathering  crowd  across  the 
square  in  the  neighborhood  of  Irving  Place. 

"  I  'm  off,"  he  cried  with  a  wave  of  his  hand,  and 
left  us. 

As  we  edged  our  way  through  the  jostling 
crowd,  I  asked  Milbrath  what  he  thought  about 
returning  to  Winton  at  once. 

"  Why  not  to  Boston  ?  I  should  suppose  our 
chances  were  there." 


270    THE  SNAKE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

"  Well,  I  Ve  got  it  into  my  head  that  Arms'  '  La 
Cour  '  may  be  Summerfield.  The  fancy  came  last 
night  when  you  asked  me  if  I  were  seeing  a  ghost." 

Milbrath's  eyes  widened. 

"  Jerusalem !  That  may  be  so.  But  you  Ve 
seen  that  man,  have  n't  you  ?  " 

"  Never,  unless  he  is  the  chap  that  Maggie  carried 
the  big  hat  to,  you  know." 

"  Did  he  resemble  Summerfield  ?  In  size  and 
figure,  I  mean." 

"  Why,  I  don't  know.  Perhaps  so.  I  fancied 
he  was  younger,  but  very  likely  it  was  only  fancy. 
But  if  La  Cour  is  Summerfield,  you  can  bank  on  it 
that  Arms  knows  that  he  killed  Mr.  Somhers,  and 
perhaps  knows  why." 

"  We  '11  admit  the  theory  for  sake  of  discussion," 
said  Milbrath.  "  Do  you  think  that  Arms  knew  it 
at  the  time  of  my  trials  ?  " 

"  It 's  quite  possible,  and  kept  the  truth  to  him- 
self for  a  money  consideration,  to  revenge  himself 
on  you,  or  for  both  reasons.  Indeed,  I  'm  not  con- 
fident that  he  was  not  an  accomplice  in  the  crime, 
instead  of  merely  an  accessory  after  it.  It 's  of  no 
use  for  you  to  shake  your  head ;  he 's  involved 
somehow." 

"  Then  we  '11  prove  it.  Have  you  a  theory  to 
explain  Summerfield's  visits  to  Winton  ? " 

"  No ;  there  I  'm  stumped  —  unless  they  are  to 
try  to  intimidate  me  with  those  foolish  notes.  And 
if  he  did  n't  want  me  to  know  the  truth,  why  on 
earth  did  he  offer  me  such  inducements  to  discover 
it?  The  old  gentleman  must  be  just  plain  daffy. 


HOESFOKD    IN   DUKANCE         271 

By  the  way,  have  I  told  you  that  Arms  has  made  a 
trail  through  the  woods  between  Overlook  and  his 
cottage  and  that  it  joins  yours  on  the  other  side  ? " 

"  No !  "  cried  Milbrath  with  interest.  "  That  is 
probably  the  way,  then,  that  Summerfield  went  the 
other  day !  How  did  you  learn  about  it  ?  " 

"  From  Horsford.  By  George !  I  believe  that 
is  the  way  Summerfield  went.  Idiot  that  I  was 
not  to  think  of  it  at  the  time !  " 

Milbrath  pondered. 

"  If  Summerfield  resembles  uncle,"  he  said  pres- 
ently, "  the  fact  may  account  for  his  apparent  de- 
sire for  seclusion  when  he  is  in  Winton.  Surely 
he  could  find  excuses  to  explain  his  visits  to  you. 
By  Jove !  If  he 's  been  at  Overlook  this  year  with- 
out his  beard,  and  looks  like  his  picture,  does  n't 
that  explain  the  ghost  story  the  boys  told  ?  " 

"  Probably  it  does.  Let 's  get  back  to  Winton  at 
once  and  call  upon  Arms.  If  Summerfield  is  not 
there  we  can  have  the  cottage  watched  until  he 
comes  again." 

We  returned  to  the  hotel  for  our  bags,  and  found 
that  a  telegram  awaited  me  there.  I  tore  it  open 
and  read : 

Come  at  once.    Very  important. 

GASPARD. 

"  Now  what  is  the  meaning  of  that  ?  "  I  exclaimed, 
handing  the  message  to  Milbrath.  "  It  is  an  un- 
equivocal command,  and  Gaspard  is  not  a  man  to 
overstep  his  boundaries  or  to  attach  undue  impor- 
tance to  a  situation." 


272    THE  SNAKE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

"  Then  I  think  we  should  make  the  next  train." 

We  did  "  make  it,"  but  it  cost  us  a  hot  race  to 
the  station,  and  our  lunch. 

It  was  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  when  we 
reached  Beverly.  The  thought  of  how  we  should 
get  to  Overlook  did  not  occur  to  us  until  it  was  too 
late  to  wire  Gaspard  to  meet  us.  After  a  tedious 
wait,  therefore,  while  the  one  station  carriage  of 
Beverly  carried  an  old  lady  up  into  a  far  distant 
portion  of  the  town  somewhere  and  returned  for  us, 
we  made  a  start  in  a  hired  conveyance. 

The  driver  was  old,  as  deaf  as  an  adder,  and,  ap- 
parently, as  uncommunicative,  and  if  we  had  hoped 
to  engage  him  in  gossip  we  soon  found  that  we 
were  to  be  disappointed. 

As  we  passed  the  Arms  cottage  he  did  turn  half 
around  toward  us  as  if  to  speak  and  one  arm  went 
out  toward  the  house,  but  he  looked  back  directly 
to  his  horses  without  having  uttered  a  word. 

We  scrutinized  the  cottage  curiously,  wondering 
whether  it  had  revealed  a  secret  or  gained  one  dur- 
ing our  absence,  but  it  looked  from  the  outside 
much  as  I  had  always  seen  it  —  white  and  green 
and  modest,  its  shades  partly  lowered  like  the 
eyelids  of  a  fair  coquette. 

Gaspard  was  holding  wide  the  screen  door  before 
our  carriage  stopped  in  front  of  the  portico  at  Over- 
look. His  face  lacked  the  debonair  smile  that 
usually  adorned  it,  and  I  knew  at  once  that  what- 
ever his  reason  in  sending  for  me  it  was  not  only 
urgent  but  serious. 

"  M'sieu  has  heard  ? "  he  asked,  and  when  I  told 


HORSFORD    IN    DURANCE          273 

him  that  I  had  heard  nothing  he  cast  a  glance  of 
such  mingled  incredulity,  amazement  and  contempt 
at  our  driver  as  condemned  the  man  at  once  to  a 
perdition  of  unending  stupidity. 

"  Of  M'sieu  Arms  it  iss.  He  iss  of  zee  dead  to- 
day —  of  zee  murdered,  m'sieu." 

"  Jim  Arms  murdered ! "  cried  Milbrath.  "  When 
did  it  happen,  man  ?  " 

"  Zis  mornin',  m'sieu.  And  M'sieu  Horsf ord,  he 
iss  in  zee  preeson." 

"  Horsford !  "  It  was  my  turn  to  exclaim.  "  Do 
they  say  that  Horsford  did  it  ?  " 

"  Oui,  m'sieu.  He  vas  zee  last  at  zee  maison  of 
M'sieu  Arms.  Now  he  vill  not'ing  zay  but,  ( I  must 
speak  vid  Meester  Blees.' ' 

I  thought  of  the  money  that  Arms  had  owed 
Horsford  and  wondered  whether  it  could  be  that  a 
row  had  arisen  over  the  matter  during  which  Arms 
had  been  killed.  That  Horsford  had  killed  his 
cousin  intentionally,  I  did  not  for  a  moment  believe. 

I  looked  at  Milbrath. 

"  We  '11  go  over  to  him  at  once !  "  I  said  tenta- 
tively. "  He  is  in  the  Beverly  jail,  I  suppose, 
Gaspard  ?  " 

"  Oui,  m'sieu.  Mais  pardon,  zee  preeson  is  not 
longer  open  to  vee-se-tors  from  seex  o'clock,  and  it 
is  now  past  seex,  zirty  minutes." 

"  I  suppose  we  might  bring  influence  to  bear  from 
some  quarter  and  see  him  to-night,"  I  remarked  to 
Milbrath.  "  But  it  is  late,  and  perhaps  it  would 
be  as  well  first  to  hear  what  others  have  to  say." 

In  this  Milbrath  agreed,  and  we  encouraged  Gas- 
18 


274    THE   SNAKE   OF   CIKCUMSTANCE 

pard  to  tell  us  all  that  he  knew  about  the  tragedy. 
He  told  it  with  many  words  and  gesticulations,  fre- 
quent appeals  to  us  for  assistance  with  the  English 
language,  and  with  great  dramatic  fervor.  But  we 
knew  little  more  when  all  was  told  (and  gesticulated) 
than  his  first  words  had  conveyed  —  that  Arms  was 
dead  from  a  bullet  that  had  entered  his  chest  and 
touched  his  heart;  that  Horsford  was  alone  with 
him  at  the  time,  and  had  been  arrested,  although  he 
stoutly  maintained  his  innocence  of  the  crime  and 
did  not  know  who  did  it;  and  that  he  asked  con- 
tinually for  me. 

After  a  hasty  supper  Milbrath  and  I  drove  over 
to  the  Arms  cottage.  Milbrath  declined  to  go  inside. 

"  If  I  can  aid  you,  of  course  you  may  call  upon 
me.  Otherwise  I  '11  remain  in  the  background. 
I  fancy  that  my  presence  would  not  greatly  comfort 
either  of  the  women,"  he  added  with  a  touch  of 
pathos. 

I  found  Mrs.  Arms  in  loud  lamentation,  but 
Maggie  was  silent  and  tearless,  and  her  large  black 
eyes  never  left  the  form  of  her  mother,  who  rocked 
back  and  forth  with  her  checked  apron  over  her  face, 
and  wailed  unceasingly  for  her  "Jamie,  her  poor, 
murdered  Jamie !  " 

"  Tell  'im  'ow  it  wur,  Maggie,"  she  commanded 
at  length,  uncovering  her  face  for  a  moment,  "  tell 
>im." 

Maggie  hesitated.  The  color  mounted  slowly  to 
her  forehead  and  her  eyes  widened  with  a  new  ex- 
pression of  alarm.  Then  she  began,  dutifully,  to 
speak,  in  a  soft,  monotonous  voice: 


HORSFORD    IN    DURANCE         275 

"  It  was  after  the  work  was  done  up  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  ma  went  down  to  the  garden  with  me  to 
'elp  pick  blackberries  for  jam.  We  saw  Joeie 
come  in  —  and  then,  in  a  little  while,  'e  was  on 
the  porch  yonder  shouting  for  us  to  come  up.  But 
'e  did  n't  do  it,  sir,"  she  interrupted  herself  to  ex- 
claim with  increased  alarm,  "  and  you  must  n't 
believe  'e  did." 

"  I  don't  believe  he  did,"  I  answered,  and  my 
words  appeared  to  have  a  wonderfully  quieting  effect 
on  the  girl.  For  the  first  time  I  saw  her  eyes  rest 
upon  me  without  apprehension. 

"  But  Jamie  was  shot,"  she  went  on  in  a  doubt- 
ful voice  as  if,  having  convinced  me,  she  could  yield 
to  the  doubt  that  harassed  her,  "  shot  and  lyin'  dead 
on  the  floor !  " 

She  hid  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  her  mother, 
who  had  ceased  to  wail  while  the  girl  spoke,  now 
broke  forth  again. 

"  Now,  Mrs.  Arms,"  I  began  resolutely  as  she 
paused  to  take  breath.  "  I  am  here  as  a  friend,  and 
I  mean  to  help  you  if  I  can.  But  I  can  do  nothing 
unless  you  will  dry  your  eyes  and  let  me  talk  with 
you  for  a  few  minutes  without  interruption." 

The  checked  apron  came  down  after  it  had  made 
a  few  effectual  dabs  at  the  old  woman's  face. 

"  Aye,  sir,"  Mrs.  Arms  said,  "  I  '11  do  as  best  I 
can."  " 

"  Please  show  me,  then,  just  where  Jim's  body 
lay  when  you  first  saw  him  after  the  shooting." 

"  Aye,  sir." 

She  led  me  into  the  kitchen,  a  large,  uncarpeted 


276    THE   SNAKE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

room,  and  pointed  to  a  red  spot  on  the  white  scoured 
floor. 

"  That,  sir,  is  where  'e  lay  —  'is  'ead  this  way 
above  the  spot,  the  feet  'ere." 

I  studied  the  position  of  the  spot  in  relation  to 
the  rest  of  the  room.  It  was  within  two  feet  of  a 
side  wall  —  at  a  diverging  line  from  which  the 
body  must  have  lain  to  bring  the  feet  so  well  toward 
the  center  of  the  room. 

"  Was  the  room  upset  —  as  if  there  had  been  a 
struggle  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Hit  was  not,  sir." 

"  There  was  one  chair  over,  ma.  This  one,  don't 
you  remember  ? "  and  Maggie  who  had  followed  us 
into  the  kitchen  touched  a  wooden-seated  chair 
against  the  wall  about  three  feet  from  the  crimson 
spot 

"  Is  the  chair  now  where  it  set  when  you  went 
out  to  the  garden  yesterday  ?  " 

"  Aye,  sir.     'T  is  always  there  except  at  meals." 

"  Which  way  did  the  chair  lie  when  you  found  it 
—  on  which  side  ?  " 

Mrs.  Arms  looked  puzzled,  but  Maggie  did  not 
hesitate. 

"  This  way,  sir,  just  so,"  and  she  tipped  the  chair 
over.  The  evidence,  if  the  girl  were  right,  was  that 
the  chair  had  fallen  in  the  direction  of  the  body. 

"  Was  there  no  one  here  with  Jim  when  you  went 
to  the  garden  ?  " 

"  No  one,  sir." 

"  How  long  was  it  after  you  went  to  the  garden 
that  you  saw  Horsford  come  in  ?  " 


HORSFOKD   IN   DURANCE          27T 

"  An  'alf  hour,  perhaps,  sir,"  answered  Maggie. 

"  Did  either  of  you  see  the  revolver  that  was 
fired?" 

"  Aye,  sir.    The  coroner  'as  it  now." 

"  Did  you  recognize  it  ? " 

Both  women  shook  their  heads. 

"  Is  there  anything  further  that  you  can  tell  me  ?  " 

There  seemed  to  be  nothing,  so  I  asked  to  see  the 
clothing  that  Arms  had  worn. 

The  steps  that  I  had  taken,  the  questions  I  had 
asked  up  to  that  point  were  stereotyped  and  formal 
and  had  left  me  still  sailing  around  without  a  rud- 
der in  this  new  sea  of  mystery.  But  as  I  put  my 
hands  upon  the  garments  so  recently  worn  by  the 
late  master  (or  tyrant)  of  the  house  in  which  I 
stood,  I  felt  with  a  thrill  that  was  wholly  without 
logical  excuse,  that  I  had  got  hold  of  something  that 
would  yield  a  clue. 

"  Was  he  wearing  a  coat  ? "  I  inquired  in  some 
surprise,  as  I  unfolded  the  brown  tweed  garment 
that  lay  on  top. 

"  'E  did  'ave  it  on  when  we  found  him,"  answered 
Maggie  in  a  puzzled  tone,  "  but  not  when  we  went 
out.  The  burn  of  the  bullet  is  on  it,  sir." 

I  examined  the  coat  carefully.  The  hole  made 
by  the  bullet  was  an  inch  below  the  lapel  on  the  left 
side ;  and  it  was  evident  that  the  assassin  had  stood 
to  the  left  of  his  victim  and  close  to  him,  for  the 
tweed  on  that  side  of  the  hole  was  singed  for  a  full 
quarter  of  an  inch  farther  in  that  direction  than 
around  it.  A  curious  feature  was  that  the  bullet 
must  have  passed  upward. 


278    THE  SNARE   OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

The  linings  of  most  of  the  pockets,  like  the  other 
linings  of  the  garment,  showed  wear,  and  that  on 
the  left  side  was  torn.  Part  of  the  tear  appeared 
to  be  recent 

I  puzzled  over  this  evidence  for  several  minutes, 
but  gathered  little  or  nothing  from  it.  I  passed  on 
to  the  other  garments,  therefore,  and  examined 
each  carefully,  without,  however,  getting  any  new 
light. 

Then  I  returned  to  the  coat  I  examined  again 
the  torn  pocket  lining  and  in  doing  so  I  made  a 
further  discovery.  The  lining  of  the  flap  of  that 
pocket  was  badly  singed.  For  the  first  time,  then, 
I  recalled  that  James  Arms  was  left-handed! 

That  recollection  opened  up  a  vista  of  possibili- 
ties, and  ten  minutes  later  when  I  handed  the  gar- 
ments back  to  Mrs.  Arms  I  am  sure  that  my  eyes 
shone  and  my  voice  betrayed  my  excitement,  for 
she  regarded  me  with  curiosity,  and  then  covered 
her  face  with  her  apron  and  again  burst  into 
lamentations. 

But  Maggie  spoke. 

"  You  're  going  to  get  Joeie  free !  "  she  said,  and 
her  words  trembled  with  excitement. 

"  I  think  so.  Are  you  certain  you  can  tell  me 
nothing  more  ? " 

Maggie's  eyelids  fell  and  again  the  blood  flooded 
her  face. 

"  There  is  one  thing  more,  sir,"  she  said,  "  though 
I  do  not  know  its  meaning.  We  tried  to  come  in 
through  the  back  door  —  ma  and  I  —  from  the  gar- 
den. It  was  open  when  Joeie  first  called,  but  as 


HORSFORD    IN    DURANCE          279 

we  came  near  it  closed  and  when  we  got  to  it  it  was 
locked." 

"  Horsford  was  still  on  the  porch  ? " 

"  He  must  have  been,  for  he  was  there  when  we 
got  around  to  that  side." 

I  looked  at  the  girl  until  my  gaze  compelled  hers. 

"  Is  that  all  that  you  can  tell  me  ?    All?  "I  asked. 

"  It  is  all  that  I  know,  sir,"  she  answered,  and 
turned  to  her  mother  with  an  expression  of  appeal. 

I  knew  that  there  was  still  something  for  me  to 
learn  from  her  —  hut,  if  necessary,  I  could  wait 

"  How  long  is  it  since  Mr.  La  Cour  was  here  ?  "  I 
asked  abruptly  turning  to  Mrs.  Arms. 

Maggie  jumped  to  her  feet  with  a  startled  cry,  her 
eyes  wide  again  with  fear.  Her  mother  raised  a 
finger  to  her  lips  as  if  to  hush  me. 

"  'T  is  long,"  she  said  briefly,  and  added  hastily: 
"  No,  no,  not  long.  But  will  you  not  see  the  boy 
before  you  go,  sir  ?  " 

I  followed  the  mother  into  the  darkened  parlor. 


CHAPTEK   XXXI 

BY    THE    SCIENCE    OF    DEDUCTION 

""VTOW,"  I  remarked  to  Milbrath  a  half  hour 
-L-*  later  after  relating  to  him  the  experiences 
just  recorded,  "  what  do  you  make  of  the  case  ?  " 

We  had  just  left  our  rooms,  after  brushing  up  a 
bit,  for  a  short  call  at  Red  Gables. 

Milbrath  hesitated. 

"  I  've  no  capacity  for  deduction,"  he  said,  "  and 
at  first  I  made  nothing  of  it,  until,  indeed,  you 
spoke  of  the  locked  door.  From  that  it  seems  evi- 
dent that  a  third  person  is  involved  —  La  Cour, 
perhaps." 

"  So  far,  so  good.  But  do  the  upset  chair,  the 
position  of  the  body,  the  character  of  the  burns  on 
the  coat,  the  fact,  indeed,  that  Arms  was  wearing 
a  coat,  tell  no  story  to  you  ?  " 

"  No  more  than  the  very  evident  fact  that  Arms 
was  shot  at  close  range.  The  chair  may  have  been 
overturned  before  or  after  the  shot  was  fired,  so  far 
as  I  can  see,  or  he  may  have  upset  it  in  falling.  I 
don't  know  what  you  mean  by  the  position  of  the 
body." 

"  Is  n't  the  fact  that  the  lining  of  the  left-hand 
pocket  was  torn  and  singed  significant  to  you?"  I 
asked  eagerly. 


BY   THE    SCIENCE   OF   DEDUCTION    281 

Milbrath  pondered  for  a  moment,  then  shook  his 
head. 

"  It  suggests  nothing  new  to  me  —  no  theory  as  to 
the  crime.  As  Arms  was  left-handed  it  is  natural 
that  the  pocket  on  the  left  side  should  show  more 
wear  than  the  other.  It  was  probably  singed  before 
to-day." 

"  Well,  to  me  those  points  mean  everything,  for 
they  make  it  evident  that  Jim  Arms  killed  himself." 

"  What !  "  cried  Milbrath.  "  Tell  me  how  you 
get  at  that,"  he  added  with  interest. 

"  I  think  the  first  suggestion  came  when  I  under- 
stood how  Arms  had  fallen  —  that  is,  how  he  lay 
when  he  was  found,  though  I  was  not  conscious  of 
it  at  the  moment.  As  you  remarked,  the  way  the 
material  was  burned  about  the  bullet  hole  showed 
that  the  firing  was  done  at  short  range.  Everything 
had  been  taken  from  the  pockets  of  all  the  garments 
—  the  pockets  had  been  dusted,  even ;  but  when  I 
came  to  the  torn  lining  in  the  coat  pocket  I  '  felt 
warm,'  as  children  say.  A  careful  examination 
showed  me  that  while  the  lining  had  undoubtedly 
first  given  way  some  time  ago,  its  break  had  been 
added  to  quite  recently ;  for  fully  an  inch  and  a  half 
of  the  stuff  had  not  yet  begun  to  fray.  Then  I 
found  the  singed  lining  of  the  flap  of  the  pocket  and 
at  the  same  instant,  I  believe,  recalled  that  Arms 
was  left-handed.  Then  as,  involuntarily,  I  raised 
the  spot  to  see  what  my  sense  of  smell  would  tell 
me  of  the  age  of  the  burn  —  even  before  I  recognized 
it  as  fresh,  I  think  that  the  solution  of  the  situation 
came  to  me  in  an  inspiration." 


282    THE   SNAKE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

"  What  is  the  solution  ?  " 

"  Well,  Arms  had  a  pistol  in  that  pocket.  With 
his  hand  in  the  pocket  he  was  endeavoring  to  free 
it  from  the  hole  in  the  lining,  in  which  it  had  caught, 
when  he  stumbled  on  the  chair  and  toppled  forward, 
throwing  the  chair  at  the  same  moment.  In  his  effort 
to  catch  himself  he  naturally  threw  out  his  left 
hand.  The  motion  freed  the  muzzle  of  the  gun  with 
a  jerk  and  caused  the  fresh  rent  in  the  lining.  At 
the  same  instant  his  involuntary  pressure  on  the 
trigger  discharged  a  bullet.  The  powder  singed  the 
lining  of  the  flap  and  the  bullet  which,  had  the  man 
been  standing  erect,  would  have  sped  off  at  an  up- 
ward angle  from  him  into  the  room,  found  its  pas- 
sage blocked  by  the  trunk  of  his  body,  which  had 
fallen  forward.  It  took  less  time  to  follow  these 
steps  than  to  describe  them  to  you  now." 

"  Jove ! "  cried  Milbrath,  "  it 's  a  fortune  in  itself 
to  be  able  to  use  the  things  one  knows  in  that 
way.  It 's  marvelous !  "  He  clapped  me  across  the 
shoulders  heartily  in  boyish  enthusiasm. 

"  In  my  case  it 's  no  gift ;  it 's  Kilbourne's  tui- 
tion," I  said,  and  my  thoughts  flew  to  the  lonely 
man  far  out  at  sea. 

"  But,  Bliss,  there  are  several  points  that  you 
have  n't  made  clear  to  me  yet.  You  Ve  evolved  a 
satisfactory  theory  as  to  the  way  of  Arms'  death, 
but  why  was  he  trying  to  get  at  his  gun  in  the  hap- 
hazard way  that  you  have  represented.  His  mind 
did  not  seem  to  be  on  what  he  was  doing." 

"  That 's  just  it.  His  mind  and  his  eyes,  prob- 
ably, were  on  some  one  before  him  who  was  driving 


BY  THE    SCIENCE   OF   DEDUCTION    283 

him  back  against  the  wall.  His  attention  was  di- 
rected toward  this  some  one,  but  he  was  preparing 
to  defend  himself  or  to  intimidate  his  adversary." 

"  And  the  '  some  one  '  was  La  Cour,  you  think  ?  " 

"  Undoubtedly.  The  fact  that  Arms  wore  his 
coat  at  the  time  of  the  tragedy  indicated  that  he  was 
1  dressed  up.'  Would  he  make  himself  fine  for 
Horsford,  for  any  of  the  neighboring  farmers,  in- 
deed, when  it  was  his  custom  to  go  into  the  village 
in  his  blouse  or  his  shirt  sleeves  ?  No ;  he  was  pre- 
pared to  see  some  one  before  whom  he  stood  on  his 
good  behavior,  and  whom  he  knew  to  be  about  the 
place  or  about  to  arrive.  I  'm  confident  it  was 
La  Cour,  and  the  next  step  is  to  ascertain  whether 
La  Cour  is  Summerfield.  Perhaps  Horsford's  story 
will  shed  some  light  on  that  point.  In  any  case, 
Horsford  is  not  the  man  the  police  want,  and  I  '11 
try  to  convince  them  of  that  to-morrow;  likewise 
to  learn  what  that  terror-stricken  Maggie  is  holding 
back.  Jove !  She  's  to  be  pitied  —  more  than  the 
mother,  I  think." 

Milbrath  agreed  with  me  gravely. 

"If  they  need  help  —  money,  you  know — for 
the  added  expenses,  or  to  live,  I  wish  you  would  see 
that  they  get  it  —  from  me  without  my  name."  He 
spoke  with  diffidence. 

"  All  right,  Milbrath,"  I  said,  "  I  '11  see  to  it." 

"  And  for  Horsford,  too  —  anything.  You  un- 
derstand ?  " 

I  understood  perfectly  that  the  best  fellow  that 
was  ever  held  for  a  crime  stood  before  me. 

We  had  reached  the  triangle  of  woods  by  this  time, 


284    THE   SNAKE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

and  were  breaking  into  its  gloom  when  the  sound  of 
rapid  footsteps  behind  us  arrested  our  attention  and 
progress. 

Directly  we  made  out  the  figure  of  Gaspard 
hastening  toward  us. 

"  Pardon,  m'sieus,"  he  cried,  "  I  haf  but  learned 
of  your  return.  It  iss  of  importance,  said  Edouard, 
zat  zis  lettre  M'sieu  Me'brath  should  at  vonce 
receive." 

He  handed  to  Milbrath  a  square  of  creamy  paper. 
Even  in  that  light  I  recognized  it  to  be  such  as  I 
had  seen  upon  Dolly's  writing  table. 

As  Milbrath  tore  the  note  from  its  cover  I  struck 
a  match  and  held  it  so  that  he  could  read.  An 
instant  later  the  paper  was  in  my  hands  and  Mil- 
brath held  the  match. 

"  Read  it,"  he  said. 

The  sheet  contained  but  one  line,  and  that,  ap- 
parently, had  been  written  in  haste : 

Please  come  to  me  at  once.     I  am  in  great  distress. 

D.  M. 

The  envelope,  I  observed,  was  addressed  to  Mil- 
brath, or,  in  case  of  his  absence,  to  me. 


CHAPTER    XXXII 

THE   AGITATION    OF    ME.    McCLUEE 

TTALFWAY  up  the  gravel  walk  to  Red  Gables 
•*--*-  we  ceased  to  run.  Dolly's  voice  singing  an 
Irish  lullaby  to  the  tinkling  accompaniment  of  her 
mandolin,  fell  gratefully  upon  our  startled  senses. 
A  sudden  hopefulness  that  we  had  merely  read  into 
her  words  that  cry  for  help  eased  the  tension  of  my 
feelings. 

It  was  but  a  momentary  relief,  however,  for  with 
the  next  line  of  the  song  I  recognized  that  her  voice 
was  tremulous  and  unnatural,  and  that  the  effect 
of  cheerfulness  was  either  a  mask  or  an  endeavor 
to  sustain  her  courage. 

Upon  our  approach  she  moved  nervously  and 
peered  into  the  darkness ;  then  rose  from  her  chair 
and  met  us  at  the  steps.  In  the  light  of  the  hanging 
porch  lamp  her  features  looked  drawn,  and  her  eyes 
were  dilated. 

Milbrath's  studied  composure  broke  at  the  sight. 
Without  a  thought,  apparently,  of  who  might  be 
within  the  house  to  see,  he  took  the  girl  in  his  arms. 

"  What  is  it,  darling  ? "  he  asked  softly. 

Dolly  buried  her  face  in  the  broad  shoulder  which 
pillowed  her  head,  and  burst  into  tears.  If  I  could 
have  done  so  I  would  have  turned  and  fled. 


286    THE  SNARE   OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

Presently  Dolly  raised  her  head,  struggling 
bravely  with  her  emotion.  A  wee  smile  glim- 
mered through  the  dejection  of  her  features,  and 
she  drew  Milbrath  to  a  tete-a-tete  near  where  I  sat 

"  Listen,"  she  whispered,  pointing  a  finger 
upward. 

Distinctly  we  heard  a  sound  of  which  I  had 
been  conscious  since  the  moment  I  reached  the 
house  —  the  unceasing  click  of  the  heels  of  a  man's 
shoes  on  a  hard  floor,  and  their  subdued  fall  upon 
rugs  in  the  room  above  us. 

"  It  is  grandfather,  and  it  has  been  like  that, 
never  pausing  for  more  than  a  minute  at  a  time, 
since  his  return,  two  hours  ago." 

"Return?     From  where?" 

"  I  wish  I  knew.  I  have  been  in  Providence 
and  only  reached  home  at  seven  o'clock.  Just  be- 
fore that  time  Delia  says,  grandfather  started  out 
in  the  covered  buggy,  after  behaving  for  an  hour 
in  a  most  extraordinary  and  unaccountable  manner. 
I  was  waiting  for  him,  here  on  the  veranda,  fearful 
but  curious,  for  he  has  not  driven  alone  after  dark 
before  in  years,  when  he  returned. 

"He  barely  noticed  me  as  he  passed  into  the 
house ;  and,  oh !  his  expression !  "  Dolly  covered 
her  eyes  for  a  moment  as  if  the  memory  were  over- 
powering. "  Only  once  before  have  I  seen  him 
with  that  shocked  and  haggard  look,  —  when  word 
came  that  Mr.  Somhers  had  been  killed.  And  then 
was  the  only  time  that  I  have  known  him  to  pace 
the  floor  as  you  hear  him  now." 

"Have  you  spoken  with  him?"  Milbrath  asked. 


THE  AGITATION  OF  ME.   McCLUEE    287 

"I  have  tried.  Twice  I  have  been  to  his  room. 
Each  time  the  door  was  closed  and  locked,  and 
while  he  opened  it  upon  my  knock,  it  did  me  no 
more  good  than  though  he  had  answered  from 
behind  it.  '  I  can't  let  you  in,  little  one,'  he  said 
the  first  time,  and  his  words  sounded  as  if  he  had 
said  them  many,  many  times  before,  '  there  is  a 
matter  that  I  must  think  out  quietly  and  alone. 
You  cannot  help  me  this  time.'  After  that  I  sat 
on  the  porch  and  listened  to  his  footseps  never  rest- 
ing, until  I  thought  I  should  go  mad.  Then  I  went 
up  to  him  again.  That  time  I  think  that  he  scarcely 
knew  what  he  was  saying  to  me.  It  was  so  in- 
coherent that  I  do  not  know  now  myself.  It  was 
about  a  friend  who  had  startled  him.  I  think  he 
said  that  his  drive  had  to  do  with  the  friend,  but 
whether  it  was  that  he  met  the  friend  while  he 
was  driving,  or  went  to  meet  the  friend  I  do  not 
know." 

"  Perhaps  the  friend  came  here  ? "  Milbrath 
suggested. 

Dolly  shook  her  head. 

"  I  have  asked,"  she  said.  "  Neither  Delia  nor 
Rose  admitted  any  one  to  the  house  all  day." 

"  Can  it  be  that  the  Arms  tragedy  has  unnerved 
him?"  I  asked  casually,  without,  however,  having 
much  belief  that  such  could  be  the  case. 

Again  Dolly  shook  her  head,  this  time  em- 
phatically. 

"I,  too,  asked  that  question,"  she  answered, 
"  and  Delia,  who  saw  him  return  from  the  Arms 
cottage,  where  he  went  as  soon  as  he  heard  of  Jim's 


288    THE   SNARE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

death,  said  that  though  he  looked  shocked  and  sym- 
pathetic, he  acted  naturally  and  sat  on  the  lawn 
and  read  for  an  hour  before  any  one  noticed  any 
agitation  in  his  manner." 

"  And  you  have  been  trying  to  restore  him  with 
your  music,  dear,"  Milbrath  said  softly,  and  he 
pressed  Dolly's  tiny  hand  more  closely  in  his. 
"Poor  little  girl!" 

"  He  loves  these  old  folksongs  and  I  knew  that 
if  anything  would  make  him  pause  and  listen  and 
think  of  me  alone  down  here,  they  would.  But  it 
has  been  half  an  hour  since  I  began." 

"  Never  mind,  darling.  The  trouble  cannot  be 
so  serious  as  it  looks  now.  Perhaps,  after  all,  you 
broke  the  spell,  for  listen!  He  has  paused." 

The  footsteps  had  ceased,  but  before  we  could 
do  more  than  exchange  glances  of  pleasure,  they 
were  renewed. 

"  Shall  Bliss  and  I  make  a  try  at  the  grand- 
dad ? "  Milbrath  asked.  Then  he  turned  to  me. 
"  What  do  you  say,  Bliss.  Shall  we  go  up  ?  Once 
he  would  do  a  good  deal  for  me."  A  spasm  of 
pain  crossed  his  features,  but  passed  directly. 
"  And  I  believe  he  would  now,"  he  added.  "  It 
may  be  some  trouble  that  he  would  rather  confide 
first  to  a  man.  Doubtless  he  is  exaggerating  its 
seriousness." 

"  There  is  one  peculiar  point  that  I  have  not 
told  you,"  Dolly  said  as  we  moved  toward  the  stair- 
case hall.  "  You  know  that  grandfather  never  per- 
mits any  one  but  himself  to  meet  me  at  the  sta- 
tion. He  has  always  declared  that  service  to  be 


THE  AGITATION  OF  ME.   McCLURE    289 

his  prerogative,  and  has  even  gone  for  me  directly 
after  one  of  his  attacks.  Well,  this  evening 
Edward  met  me." 

Milbrath  whistled  softly. 

"  Yes  ?  "  he  queried  expectantly. 

"  The  way  it  came  about  is  the  strangest  part  of 
this  queer  affair.  After  returning  from  the  Arms 
cottage  grandfather  sat  on  the  lawn,  as  I  have 
said,  and  read  for  an  hour.  Just  before  six  o'clock 
he  called  Delia  and  instructed  her  to  tell  Edward 
to  have  the  phaeton  ready  for  him  in  half  an  hour. 
That  meant,  of  course,  that  he  purposed  to  meet 
me,  as  usual.  When  the  phaeton  had  waited  before 
the  door  for  ten  minutes,  Delia  went  up  to  the 
study  to  account  for  grandfather's  unheard-of 
lateness.  The  door  was  closed,  and  she  declares 
that  grandfather  was  talking  to  himself  in  low, 
excited  tones,  and  pacing  the  floor  as  he  is  doing 
now.  She  was  afraid  to  knock,  and  crept  down- 
stairs again.  Just  as  she  reached  the  kitchen, 
grandfather  whistled  down  through  the  tube  and 
ordered  Edward  to  harness  the  roan  to  the  covered 
buggy  and  hitch  her  at  the  side  entrance,  and  then 
to  drive  in  the  phaeton  as  fast  as  he  could  for  me." 

Milbrath  turned  upon  me  the  oddest  expression 
that  I  had  ever  seen  upon  his  face.  It  was  in  one 
look  a  query  and  a  desire  for  my  denial,  or  so  I 
read  it,  and  I  believed  that  the  thought  that  had 
leaped  into  my  brain  had  gone,  also,  to  him. 

"Can  it  be  that  Mr.  McClure  knows  Mm?"  I 
asked  (meaning  Summerfield),  as  we  stood  to- 
gether before  the  study  door.  "  And  is  it  possible 

19 


290    THE   SNAKE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

that  he  threw  himself  upon  Mr.  McClure's  protec- 
tion after  the  tragedy  to-day  ?  " 

"  I  don't  want  to  think  so,"  Milbrath  answered 
soberly,  "  for  that  would  mean  another  tangle,  but 
it  looks " 

He  did  not  finish  his  sentence  then,  for  in  re- 
sponse to  our  second  knock  there  was  the  sound  of 
a  turning  key  and  of  an  opening  door,  and  Mr. 
McClure  stood  before  us. 

His  back  was  to  the  light  of  the  room,  and 
against  it  his  usually  erect  figure  looked  feeble  and 
stooping.  The  light  from  the  hall  lamp  shining 
on  his  face  showed  us  that  his  eyes  were  bloodshot 
and  anxious,  and  that  the  lines  about  them  had 
deepened  to  furrows. 

"  Good  evening,  gentlemen,"  he  said  quietly. 
"  Will  you  come  in  ?  " 

He  held  the  door  wide  for  us  to  pass,  and  as 
we  did  so  I  felt  a  thrill  of  excitement  —  as  one 
will  who  is  confronted  suddenly  by  the  unexpected. 
I  was  prepared,  and  I  think  that  Milbrath  was, 
for  almost  any  kind  of  a  reception  except  the  one 
we  were  receiving.  Quiet  courtesy,  Mr.  McClure's 
usual  manner,  had  been  outside  our  anticipation. 
But  there  we  were,  seating  ourselves  at  his  request 
in  Mr.  McClure's  study,  and  there  was  Milbrath, 
fumbling  a  little  nervously,  perhaps,  at  his  watch 
fob  and  saying  hesitatingly: 

"  We  have  n't  meant  to  intrude  upon  you,  grand- 
dad McClure,  but  Dolly  's  a  bit  unnerved  by  your 
evident  trouble  and  her  seeming  inability  to  help 
you.  Now,  if  we  could  do  what  she  cannot  — 


THE  AGITATION  OF  ME.   HcCLURE    291 

one  or  both  of  us  —  perhaps  we  could  relieve  things 
all  around." 

Mr.  McClure  had  paced  the  width  of  the  room 
and  back  during  Milbrath's  little  speech.  He 
paused  abruptly  and  laid  his  hand  on  the  young 
man's  shoulder. 

"  Thank  you,  my  boy,  thank  you,"  he  said,  and 
his  voice  trembled.  "  If  there  were  anything  that 
mortal  could  do,  next  to  my  little  Dolly  I  should 
trust  you,  and  our  good  friend  here,  with  it.  It 
is  useless  to  deny  that  I  have  been  troubled;  aye 
in  dire  distress;  but  it  was  a  matter  in  which  no 
human  counsel  would'  avail,  one  which  I  must 
settle  according  to  my  light  —  and  alone."  He 
sank  into  a  chair,  and  covered  his  face  with  his 
long,  shriveled,  tanned  hands.  "  And  I  have  set- 
tled it  at  last,  I  believe,"  he  added  presently.  His 
hands  dropped  to  the  arms  of  the  chair,  and  he 
heaved  a  great  sigh,  as  if  of  relief. 

"  Then,  if  you  will  permit  the  suggestion,  sir,  I 
think  that  you  should  see  Dolly  for  a  moment,  to 
ease  her  mind,  and  afterward  get  to  bed  at  once. 
You  appear  to  be  worn  out." 

A  shadow  of  the  man's  winsome  smile  played 
about  Mr.  McClure's  features  for  an  instant. 

"  That  I  will  do,"  he  answered.  •  "  You  may 
send  the  little  one  to  me  as  you  go  down,  and  di- 
rectly afterward  I  will  go  to  my  room.  Please 
believe  that  I  am  grateful  to  both  of  you  for  com- 
ing to  my  assistance." 

He  held  out  a  hand  to  each  of  us,  cordially,  but 
clearly  in  dismissal,  and  I  saw  slipping  from  me 


292    THE   SNAKE   OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

all  opportunity  to  learn  whether  Richard  La  Cour 
were  known  to  him  as  well  as  to  James  Arms,  and, 
perhaps,  whether  Richard  La  Cour  were,  indeed, 
Philander  Summerfield. 

I  believed  that  I  understood  Mr.  McClure  well 
enough  to  know  that  a  night's  rest  would  only  add 
strength  to  the  resolution  he  seemed  to  have  made 
to  confide  in  no  one,  and  if  his  trouble  concerned 
La  Cour  and  I  would  ascertain  the  fact,  I  must 
learn  it  that  evening.  If  the  name  were  unfa- 
miliar to  him  no  harm  could  come,  surely,  from 
my  mention  of  it. 

"  Mr.  McClure,"  I  ventured,  bracing  myself  to 
the  occasion,  "  I  regret  to  trouble  you  with  the 
subject  this  evening,  but  it  seems  imperative.  The 
crime,  or  accident,  at  the  cottage  to-day  appears 
now  to  have  added  another  complication  to  the  mat- 
ter that  brought  me  to  Winton,  and  which  I  know 
that  you  are  as  interested  as  any  one  to  see  cleared 
up.  It  may  save  Mr.  Milbrath  and  me  a  great 
deal  of  detailed  work  if  you  will  tell  us  whether 
you  have  ever  known  a  man  named  Richard  La 
Cour?" 

The  expression  of  dread  which  sprang  into  Mr. 
McClure's  eyes  at  my  first  words  gave  way  to  one 
of  cold  reserve,  as  if  he  were  prepared  to  hold  at 
any  cost  to  the  vow  of  silence  which  he  had  im- 
posed upon  himself,  and,  at  last,  to  undisguised 
relief. 

He  shook  his  head  promptly. 

"  I  have  never  before  heard  the  name,"  he 
answered. 


THE  AGITATION  OF  ME.   McCLUKE    293 

"  I  believe  that  he  is  also  known  as  '  Philander 
Summerfield,'  "  I  continued. 

"  Nor  do  I  know  that  name  —  '  Philander  Sum- 
merfield.' Curious !  " 

The  expression  of  dread  was  again  in  Mr.  Mc- 
Clure's  eyes,  and  he  suddenly  steadied  himself 
against  the  back  of  a  chair. 

"  He  has  been  an  occasional  visitor  at  the  Arms 
cottage  this  summer.  He  was  there  to-day,  I  be- 
lieve, and  whether  responsible  for  or  innocent  of 
the  death  of  Arms,  for  Joe  Horsford's  sake  he 
must  be  apprehended  and  made  to  tell  what  he 
knows  about  it.  I  believe,  moreover,  that  when 
we  do  get  him  we  shall  have  the  man  who  knows 
why  and  how  Mr.  Somhers  died." 

Mr.  McClure's  thin  body  swayed  slightly  and 
his  averted  face  was  ghastly.  I  needed  no  more 
to  assure  me  that  my  words  had  touched  the  open 
wound  in  the  man's  breast. 

My  mind  revolted  against  further  probing,  but, 
with  fierce  determination,  I  cast  sentiment  aside. 

"  If  these  names  are  strange  to  you,  then,  of 
course,  we  must  continue  our  investigations  with- 
out your  assistance,  unless,  indeed,  Summerfield  has 
still  a  third  cognomen  by  which  he  is  known  to  you. 
I  will  confide  to  you  that  for  some  time  we  enter- 
tained a  theory  that  this  man  might  be  a  brother 
of  Peter  Somhers  —  Francis  Somhers,  who  is  sup- 
posed to  have  died  long  ago.  More  recent  devel- 
opments appear  to  disprove  that  hypothesis;  but, 
of  course,  our  new  evidence  may  prove  to  be  false, 
and  Summerfield  may  really  be  related  to  Mr. 


294    THE   SNARE   OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

Somhers.  In  that  case,  and  especially  if  he  be  an- 
other Cain,  our  discovery  will  avail  little,  I  fear, 
as  Milbrath  will  remain  in  the  present  shadow  in 
preference  to  exposing  his  relative." 

Mr.  McClure  raised  his  eyes  to  Milbrath  in  a 
glance  of  quick  inquiry.  He  appeared  about  to 
speak,  and  then  to  think  about  it  and  remain  silent. 

"  I  do  not  know  the  name  '  La  Cour '  or  that 
of  '  Summerfield,'  "  he  said  after  a  moment,  and 
with  intense  weariness.  "  I  do  not  see  that  I  can 
help  you,  though  God  knows  that  I  want  you  to 
be  wholly  free  again,  my  poor  Harry,  my  boy !  " 

He  dropped  into  a  chair  and  buried  his  face  in 
his  folded  arms  upon  a  table. 

And  thus  we  left  him  for  Dolly  to  comfort. 


CHAPTEK   XXXIII 

WHAT  MAGGIE  KNEW 

I  saw  him  in  the  Beverly  jail,  Hors- 
ford  was  hollow-eyed  and  pale,  the  effects  of 
a  sleepless  night  of  anxiety,  but  his  faith  that  I 
would  help  him  had  not  deserted  him. 

"  I  did  no'  do  it,  sir,  you  know  that  ? "  he  said 
in  a  dull  voice. 

"  Certainly  I  know  it,  Horsford.  I  have  n't 
doubted  you  for  a  minute,  but  who  did  do  it  ?  Can 
you  tell  me  that  ?  " 

Horsford  looked  about  to  see  whether  the  guard 
had  left  us,  and  finding  that  he  was  out  of  earshot 
he  said  slowly: 

"  Aye,  sir.  I  'ave  a  fancy.  There  were  a  stranger 
there  yesterday." 

"  Did  you  hear  his  name  ? " 

"  I  did  not,  sir.  It  were  this  way :  I  went  hover 
for  the  money,  as  you  know,  sir.  I  'card  loud  words 
before  I  got  to  the  kitchen  door,  and  Jim  were 
sayin' : 

" '  No,  you  don't  get  ye're  gun  now  nor  ever  'til 
ye  Ve  made  me  a  even  five  'undred.  God !  What 
d  'ye  s'ppose  I  'm  keepin'  ye  from  the  gallows  fur, 
ol'  man  ?  Fur  my  pleasure  ?  '  They  were  'is  words, 
sir,  an'  'e  laughed  'is  cruel  laugh.  I  could  no'  'ear 


296     THE    SNARE    OF    CIRCUMSTANCE 

the  words  of  the  answer,  sir,  but  they  come  fast  fur 
a  space,  and  I  'eard  your  name,  '  Bliss,'  sir.  Then 
my  foot  touched  the  steps,  and  I  'eard  some  one 
run  across  the  floor.  It  were  a  man,  not  tall  as 
you,  sir,  with  gray  'air  and  a  beard.  That  were 
all  I  could  see.  'E  went  into  the  back  entry.  Jim 
turned  'round  on  me  an'  I  thought  'e  would  strike 
me. 

"  '  Gol  durn  ye ! '  'e  shouted,  '  ye  bad  penny ! 
Why  could  no'  ye  wait  'til  noon.  I  '11  'ave  the 
money  then,  nor  some  un  '11  be  in  jail.  Clear  along 
wi'  ye ! ' 

"  They  were  'is  words  again,  sir.  I  'd  not  opened 
my  mouth  to  speak.  But  I  went  hout  to  the  stable. 
I  meant  to  take  Grayskin  back  with  me.  I  'ad  got 
'er  away  from  the  stable  and  near  to  the  'ouse  when 
the  shot  came  hand  I  knew  where  it  was  from. 
I  let  go  the  'alter  and  ran  to  the  kitchen.  And 
there  lay  Jim  hon  the  floor,  sir,  and  'e  were  dead." 

"  Yes,"  I  assented,  "  and  then  8  " 

"Then  I  ran  to  the  porch  and  called  to  the  women, 
and  they  come  hup.  You  know  the  rest,  sir." 

"  You  let  the  man  with  the  gray  hair  get  away !  " 
I  cried. 

"  I  did  n't  think  of  'im  again,  sir  —  'pon  my 
word  I  did  n't  —  till  I  were  back  'ome,  sir.  When 
I  tried  to  tell  the  hofficer  who  took  me,  'e  laughed. 
1  You  '11  'ave  a  chance  to  tell  that  to  the  coroner/ 
were  hall  'e  'd  say." 

I  turned  the  situation  over  in  my  mind  and  de- 
cided upon  a  course  of  action. 

"  Have  patience,  Joe.    You  '11  not  be  here  long," 


WHAT   MAGGIE    KNEW  297 

I  promised  as  I  left  him.  "  I  '11  see  that  the  little 
wife  and  boy  get  over  to  see  you  to-day.  She  's 
doing  well  these  days,  is  the  wife,  Joe  ? " 

"  Aye,  sir !  "  and  Joe's  face  lighted  with  the 
thought. 

The  only  evidence  of  value  to  me  that  the  coro- 
ner had  taken  from  the  scene  of  the  tragedy  was 
the  revolver  from  which  the  shot  was  fired.  I 
looked  at  its  silver  mountings,  its  old-fashioned  but 
exquisite  workmanship  and  the  intertwined  initials 
"  P.  S."  embossed  on  the  butt,  and  back  to  the  face 
of  the  officer  beside  me. 

"  Do  you  contend  that  this  was  Joseph  Horsford's 
pistol  ?  "  I  asked  the  man. 

"  Sure  not.  We  think  it 's  one  the  old  gentle- 
man Somhers  gave  Arms  long  ago.  Them  's  his 
initials  there,  *  P.  S.,'  you  see." 

There  was  a  remote  chance  that  such  a  theory 
was  correct.  Therefore  I  accepted  it  tentatively. 

"  Will  you  tell  me  how  you  account  for  the  fact 
that  Horsford  had  it  ?  " 

The  officer  looked  embarrassed. 

"  I  'm  not  well  up  on  the  case,  as  I  'm  not  the 
man  who  took  Joe  Horsford,"  he  said.  "  But  I 
believe  the  idea  is  that  Arms  had  lent  it  to  Joe 
some  time." 

"  I  suppose  there  have  been  no  developments  in 
the  case  to-day  ?  " 

"  None  that  I  have  heard  of." 

I  bade  the  man  good  day  and  drove  directly  to 
the  Arms  house.  It  had  an  air  of  being  deserted, 
but  Maggie  answered  my  knock.  Black  rings  had 


298    THE    SNAKE    OF    CIRCUMSTANCE 

found  their  way  about  her  eyes  and  her  face  was 
colorless.  Altogether  she  looked  too  ill  to  be  up. 

"  No ;  don't  call  your  mother,"  I  said  as  she 
intimated  that  she  would  do  so.  "  My  business  is 
with  you.  I  've  heard  Joe  Horsford's  story  and  I 
know  what  you  failed  to  tell  me  last  night.  Mr. 
La  Cour  was  here  yesterday." 

Maggie  sank  into  a  chair. 

"  Did  Joeie  know  about  Mr.  La  Cour  ?  "  she  half 
whispered,  her  eyes  full  of  terror. 

"  He  knew  that  he  was  here  with  Jim  while  you 
were  in  the  garden  —  an  elderly  man  with  a  gray 
beard  and  blue  eyes — (I  saw  from  Maggie's  ex- 
pression that  the  description  fitted  the  man)  —  from 

whom  Jim  got  money  at  intervals  and  who " 

But  I  got  no  further  for,  with  a  little  cry,  Maggie 
covered  her  ears  with  her  hands.  And  then  she  did 
just  what  I  might  have  known  that  she  would  do; 
she  fainted. 

My  efforts  to  get  water  for  the  girl  brought  Mrs. 
Arms  from  the  darkened  parlor.  She  looked  piti- 
fully old  and  feeble  in  the  morning  light,  but  she 
had  her  grief  in  control.  Her  face  lighted  at  sight 
of  me. 

"  Ah !  "  she  cried.  "  It  were  fur  ye  I  've  looked 
hup  the  road  all  the  mornin'.  Maggie  will  say  out 
all  there  is  to  tell,  or  I  will  speak  for  'er."  Then 
she  caught  sight  of  the  unconscious  girl. 

It  was  fully  ten  minutes  before  we  had  her  re- 
stored sufficiently  to  question.  Even  then  I  was 
loath  to  agitate  her.  But  Mrs.  Arms  felt  otherwise. 

"  It 's  'ard  fur  Maggie,"  she  said  with  a  pitying 


WHAT   MAGGIE    KNEW  299 

glance  at  the  girl,  "  but  ye  must  know  all,  sir. 
Maggie,  s'ppose  ye  go  to  the  buttery  and  get  the 
gentleman  a  glass  o'  wine,  and  I  will  tell  'im." 

The  girl  shook  her  head. 

"  After,"  she  said  briefly,  and  her  eyes  said 
plainly  that  nothing  that  she  was  likely  to  hear  or 
that  could  result  would  be  worse  than  the  silent 
misery  she  had  already  endured. 

"It's  about  the  ol'  gentleman,"  Mrs.  Arms  con- 
tinued, "  an'  what  we  know,  though  it  is  no'  much, 
may  'elp  Joeie.  Ye  rec'lect  I  spoke  a  time  back 
about  Mr.  La  Cour  ? " 

"  Yes ;  Jim's  friend  who  stopped  here  some- 
times." 

"  Aye ;  the  same.  But  it  were  Jim  as  were  the 
good  friend,  an'  out  o'  the  kindness  o'  'is  'eart  took 
'im  in.  For  'e  should  'ave  been  in  prison,  sir! 
Hist  ye !  'T  were  'e  as  killed  the  old  master!  'im! 
Not  'Arry  Milbrath,  mind  ye,  but  'im!  " 

She  lowered  her  voice  to  a  dramatic  whisper  as 
she  spoke  these  words  and  leaned  toward  me  with 
one  finger  raised  to  emphasize  each  slowly  uttered 
syllable. 

Notwithstanding  my  pre-conviction  of  this  fact 
I  felt  a  chill  crawl  up  my  backbone  and  set  the 
hairs  of  my  head  on  end. 

"  You  have  known  this  —  how  long  ?  " 

"  Sin'  last  night  only,  sir,  when  ye  'ad  gone  an' 
Maggie  feared  fur  'er  life  in  the  night  an'  come 
an'  tol'  me  all.  She  'as  known  since  the  airly  sum- 
mer when  Mr.  La  Cour  began  to  come,  but  Jamie 
said  she  would  be  killed,  too,  'f  she  let  any  un 


300    THE  SNARE   OF  CIRCUMSTANCE 

know  as  'e  were  'ere.  They  ne'er  tol'  me,  sir,  lest 
my  ol'  tongue  'd  wag  —  as  hit  did  to  ye  that  day." 

"  Was  Mr.  La  Cour  here  when  you  went  to  the 
garden  yesterday  morning  ?  " 

"  Aye,  sir.  Or  so  I  've  believed  sin'  Maggie 
tol'  me  this.  'E  were  'ere  at  breakfast,  but  started 
away  as  soon  as  it  were  over,  an'  Jamie  said  'e 
were  gone.  But  I  've  been  thinkin'  as  Jamie  knew 
'e  'd  be  back,  an'  so  't  was  'e  'urried  us  off  to  the 
berry  patch  an'  put  on  'is  coat  and  collar.  'E 
were  very  careful  wi'  'is  dress,  were  Jamie,  when 
the  hold  gentleman  come." 

"  Did  you  not  think  of  Mr.  La  Cour  when  you 
found  your  son  dead?  Could  you  for  a  moment 
believe  that  your  nephew  did  it  ? " 

"  I  thought  of  nothin',  sir,  but  that  Jamie  wur 
dead." 

"  And  you  ?  "  I  said,  turning  to  Maggie  and  try- 
ing to  speak  gently.  "  Did  you  think  of  Mr.  La 
Cour?" 

She  nodded. 

"  I  thought  of  'im,  for  his  words  with  Jamie 
were  ofttimes  'ot,  but  I  thought  that  'e  'ad  gone, 
and  that  it  must  ha'  been  Joeie." 

She  glanced  about  her  nervously,  as  if  afraid  of 
an  avenging  fury  even  as  she  spoke. 

"  When  did  you  first  think  that  he  might  have 
done  it  ? " 

"  After  the  coroner  came,  when  I  thought  'ow 
the  back  door  closed  in  our  faces,  and  Joeie  on  the 
porch." 

"  Are  you  certain  that  Mr.  La  Cour  got  away  ?  " 


WHAT    MAGGIE    KNEW  301 

Maggie  shivered. 

"  'E  must  'ave,  sir.     Would  'e  stay  after  that?  " 

I  thought  of  Red  Gables,  and  of  Mr.  McClure, 
but  I  said: 

"  Probably  not,  especially  as  he  knew  the  way 
through  the  woods  to  the  station." 

"  You  know  that,  sir !  " 

"  Yes ;  and  many  other  things.  Do  not  fear 
that  he  will  ever  return  and  harm  you.  He  will 
never  come  here  again.  Had  he  been  here  since 
Monday?" 

"  Since  Friday,  sir."  She  hesitated,  but  it  was 
plain  that  her  fear  was  passing.  "  'E  was  afraid 
of  you,  sir." 

"  Of  me  ?     Do  you  know  why  ?  " 

"I  —  I  'card  'im  say  once  when  'e  was  wild 
('e  was  often  wild,  sir,  either  with  laughter  or  with 
anger,  but  this  time  it  was  with  something  else  — 
fear,  I  thought,  sir)  —  'e  said  that  you  would  get 
'im." 

"  Maggie,"  I  said  quietly  after  a  moment's  si- 
lence, "  when  Mr.  Somhers  was  killed  you  were 
afraid  of  something.  Did  you  think  that  your 
brother  had  killed  him  ?  " 

"  I  thought —  oh,  the  Lord  forgive  me !  Yes, 
sir;  I  thought  it  was  Jamie,  for  'e  had  said  that 
either  the  old  master  or  Harry  should  die." 

She  paused,  gasped,  and  then  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands  and  broke  into  a  storm  of  tears. 

Within  another  hour  I  had  learned  that  Mr. 
La  Cour  had  left  Winton  by  the  evening  train  the 
day  before.  He  had  appeared  on  the  station  plat- 


302     THE    SNARE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

form,  as  usual,  just  as  the  train  was  coming  in, 
and  Hutton  had  noticed  nothing  unusual  in  his 
appearance. 

While  I  was  puzzled  as  to  where  he  had  hidden 
himself  between  the  time  of  the  tragedy  and  the 
evening  hour  when  Mr.  McClure's  agitation  became 
evident,  my  calmer  reason  of  the  morning  strength- 
ened my  conviction  that  it  was  the  man  known  to 
the  Arms  family  as  La  Cour  who  had  been  the 
cause  of  Mr.  McClure's  distress  and  of  his  drive 
after  nightfall  in  the  covered  buggy. 

When  I  returned  to  Overlook,  Gaspard  met  me 
with  an  air  of  importance. 

"  M'sieu  shall  now  know,"  he  said,  "  vhere  zee 
ol'  man  run  zee  day  in  zee  —  tun-nel  iss  it?  —  zee 
place  under  zee  ground  ?  See !  " 

He  extended  his  open  palm  on  which  lay  a  small 
Greek  cross  in  gold  with  the  letters  "  P.  S."  form- 
ing a  monogram  in  tiny  diamond  chips  in  the  centre. 
I  recognized  it  as  a  watch  charm  that  Philander 
Summerfield  had  worn  on  the  day  he  sought  me  in 
New  York. 

"  Where  did  you  get  it  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  In  zee  hothouse,  m'sieu.  Vill  m'sieu  come  and 
see?" 

I  followed  the  man  to  the  abandoned  hothouse, 
into  which  I  stepped  for  the  first  time,  and  there 
found  an  explanation  for  the  only  feature  of  the 
case  that  I  had  so  far  encountered  (except  Mr. 
McClure's  connection  with  it) ,  which  remained  open 
to  speculation:  how  Philander  Summerfield  had 
eluded  us. 


WHAT    MAGGIE    KNEW  303 

Far  under  a  bench,  and  next  to  a  side  wall  where 
Gaspard  found  the  charm,  the  dust  which  covered 
everything  in  the  place  showed  recent  disturbance, 
and  footprints  that  were  neither  mine  nor  Gas- 
par  d's  were  visible  in  both  directions  on  the  floor. 
What  is  more,  they  were  the  prints  of  square-toed 
shoes! 

I  anathematized  myself  for  a  blockhead,  a  blun- 
derer, an  idiot,  as  I  realized  how  easily  I  had  been 
beaten  at  my  own  game  of  cunning;  and  I  blushed 
to  think  how  amateurish  my  handling  of  the  case 
must  appear  to  that  subtle  old  sinner  himself  who 
so  many  times  had  boldly  waved  the  red  flag  in 
my  face,  only  to  slip  away  from  me  when  I  reached 
out  to  grasp  him. 

A  week  later,  with  eyes  that  saw  the  case  clearly 
for  the  first  time  I  thanked  an  all-wise  Providence 
that  Philander  Summerfield  did  escape  me  that 
morning,  stupid  though  it  made  me  out  to  be; 
for,  to  have  taken  him  then  would  have  been  to 
bring  to  disaster  what  had  come  to  be  the  real  pur- 
pose of  my  investigation  —  the  vindication  of  the 
name  of  Harrison  Milbrath. 

Mr.  McClure  I  did  not  further  trouble.  The 
memory  of  his  tortured  face  rose  before  me  with 
every  thought  of  him  and  made  the  pain  that  I 
had  inflicted  seem  unwarrantable  in  view  of  the 
little  that  I  had  gained  for  my  case.  I  did  not 
see  him  again  for  several  days,  for  exhaustion  fol- 
lowed his  evening  of  excitement,  and  for  two  days 
Dolly  refused  to  permit  even  Milbrath  to  speak 
with  him. 


When,  however,  we  met  again,  he  appeared  to 
have  accepted  the  amends  I  had  tried  to  make  to 
him  in  the  shape  of  fruit  and  flowers,  in  the  spirit 
in  which  they  were  sent,  and  greeted  me  with  his 
usual  cordiality  and  friendliness.  But  no  word  of 
what  had  been  said  at  our  last  meeting  was  men- 
tioned, or  was  reference  made  to  the  death  of  Jim 
Arms.  Only  the  new  lines  of  pain  in  the  kind  old 
face  remained  as  evidence  of  the  mental  struggle 
through  which  he  had  passed,  or  was  passing;  but 
from  that  hour  I  felt  that  Chauncey  McClure  be- 
lieved me  to  know  all  that  I  surmised,  and  later 
1  found  that  he  credited  me  with  the  possession  of 
facts  the  existence  of  which  at  that  time  I  was  far 
from  suspecting.  Yet  he  held  his  peace. 

The  day  following  the  Arms  tragedy,  after  a  talk 
with  Milbrath,  who  was  unwilling  to  connect  him- 
self with  Horsford's  case,  I  laid  before  the  coroner 
and  the  chief  of  police  in  Beverly  the  results  of 
my  investigations  in  the  matter;  and,  twenty-four 
hours  later,  Horsford  was  back  at  Overlook  upon 
Milbrath's  bond,  given  through  me,  pending  the 
public  examination  which  the  coroner  had  set  for 
the  following  Wednesday. 

While  I  had  been  detailed  and  explicit  in  relat- 
ing to  the  officers  my  line  of  deductions  that  resulted 
in  my  conviction  that  Arms'  death  was  due  to  an 
accident  and  not  to  murder,  and  had  told  them  all 
that  I  had  learned  from  the  Arms  women  about 
La  Cour  as  La  Cour  I  refrained  from  any  reference 
to  the  fact  that  I  had  come  in  contact  with  the  man, 
and  the  name  of  Philander  Summerfield  was  not 
mentioned. 


WHAT    MAGGIE    KNEW  305 

Nevertheless  I  determined  to  force  Summerfield's 
hand  by  this  very  trump  card  —  my  unspoken  be- 
lief, and  the  day  that  gave  Horsford  his  condi- 
tional freedom  found  a  letter  on  its  way  to  Boston 
in  which  I  informed  Mr.  Summerfield  that  a  man 
answering  his  description  was  wanted  in  Winton 
for  the  death,  or  as  a  witness  to  the  accidental  death, 
of  a  farmer  named  Arms,  and  that  he  was  in  great 
danger  of  being  taken  and  held  for  the  crime  un- 
less he  came  forward  and  gave  an  account  of  his 
whereabouts  on  the  fifth  of  September. 

These  things  accomplished  there  seemed  little 
need  for  our  presence  in  Winton,  and  a  great  de- 
sire to  get  away  seized  me.  The  way  that  I  had 
taken  hold  of  the  Arms  mystery  appeared  profes- 
sional to  the  people  of  the  two  villages,  and  the 
original  suspicion  that  I  was  investigating  the 
Somhers  mystery  became  a  conviction. 

Moreover,  Milbrath,  whose  beard  had  for  a  time 
disguised  him,  had  been  recognized,  and  the  cor- 
diality or  the  coldness  with  which  he  was  received 
by  his  old  acquaintances  had  so  telling  an  effect 
on  his  spirits  that  I  suggested  a  return  to  Boston. 

"  Gaspard  can  forward  by  special  delivery  any 
mail  that  comes,  so  there  will  be  little  delay  in 
getting  the  answer  if  we  hear  from  the  Virginia 
advertisement  or  from  Summerfield,"  I  said. 
"  Moreover,  we  shall  be  on  the  spot  when  the  men 
on  the  case  have  something  to  report." 

"  Some  one  of  them  is  bound  to  report  some 
time,  I  suppose,"  Milbrath  answered,  "  but  it  seems 
a  deuced  long  time  since  they  went  to  work,  and 

20 


306     THE    SNAKE    OF    CIRCUMSTANCE 

there  've  been  no  results  from  them  yet.  If  the 
men  at  the  Park  Square  station  are  up  to  their 
duty  the  old  fellow  must  have  got  into  town  by 
another  route  —  if  he  is  there." 

"  Well,  the  police  throughout  the  country  are  on 
the  lookout  for  him  now,  wherever  he  is,  and  he 
may  find  it  difficult  to  evade  them  for  long  unless  he 
changes  his  guise,  which  he  may  do,  of  course.  I  'm 
of  the  opinion  that  in  any  case  he  will  return  to 
Boston  sooner  or  later.  Then  it  is  a  mere  matter 
of  time  until  we  get  him.  By  the  way,  I  wonder 
whether  we  'd  better  have  the  outgoing  transat- 
lantic steamers  watched  ?  " 

Milbrath  laughed. 

"  We  shall  have  the  whole  private  detective  force 
of  Boston  at  our  beck  and  call  if  we  continue  to 
draw  on  it,"  he  said.  "  But  anything  to  win. 
Have  every  dock  in  the  country  sentineled  if  you 
think  best" 

"  I  '11  consider  that !  But  we  will  go  to  Boston 
in  the  morning.  Going  to  Red  Gables  now  ?  " 

We  had  risen  from  the  supper  table  and  McClure- 
ward  was  Milbrath' s  usual  outlook  at  that  hour. 

Milbrath  nodded  and  smiled. 

"  The  old  story  of  the  spider  and  the  fly.  Will 
you  come  with  me  ?  " 

"  Not  now,  thanks.  I  think  I  '11  have  another 
look  at  some  of  the  things  in  the  little  room.  Per- 
haps I  '11  step  over  in  time  to  walk  back  with  you. 
In  any  case,  give  my  best  to  the  old  gentleman  and 
the  little  wife." 


CHAPTER    XXXIV 

WHAT  THE  BLOTTEB  REVEALED 

SAT  on  the  portico  and  smoked  until  the  soft 
-•-  darkness  closed  in  around  me.  Then  I  took 
a  lighted  lamp  and  went  into  the  little  room  which 
Milbrath  and  I  had  not  entered  together  since  that 
memorable  Sunday  evening. 

Everything  about  the  tiny  apartment  appeared 
to  be  as  I  had  left  it  on  the  following  morning. 
The  gaping  aperture  made  by  the  splintered  door 
resembled  the  entrance  to  a  cavern,  and  the  Meph- 
istopheles  behind  the  tree  in  the  picture  above  the 
desk  peered  down  upon  the  devastation  with  an 
expression  that  in  the  uncertain  light  of  one  lamp 
appeared  wholly  diabolical. 

A  thought  too  wild,  it  seemed,  to  be  anything 
but  fancy  had  been  developing  in  my  mind  during 
the  past  few  hours,  since  a  visit  in  the  afternoon 
to  the  little  room,  and  I  was  in  the  same  little 
room  again  to  verify  it  by  further  evidence  or 
reject  it. 

Seating  myself  before  the  desk  I  rolled  back  the 
top.  Then  I  drew  from  my  pocket  the  contract 
that  I  had  made  with  Philander  Summerfield  on 
August  16th. 

Ah !  I  was  quicker  to  detect  differences  in  hand- 
writing than  I  had  been  when  Murray  Kilbourne 


308     THE    SNAKE    OF    CIRCUMSTANCE 

assured  me  that  the  signature  of  Mr.  Summerfield 
was  assumed.  How  plainly  I  saw  the  difference 
now !  What  was  more,  I  saw  that  the  filled-in  por- 
tions of  the  contract  form  were  a  cross  between  the 
bold  hieroglyphics  of  Peter  Somhers  and  the  cramped, 
small  hand  of  Philander  Summerfield,  while  the 
signature  was  almost  a  facsimile  of  that  which 
Philander  Summerfield  had  made  upon  the  two 
contracts  that  we  had  found! 

I  passed  my  hands  across  my  eyes,  and  for  an 
instant  sat  in  silence,  dreading  to  take  the  next 
step. 

I  turned,  finally,  to  the  blue,  much  blurred  blotter 
upon  the  desk,  with  its  border  of  tiny  ink  dots,  as 
if  their  maker  had  sat  with  a  well-wet  pen  in  his 
hand  through  many  an  abstracted  moment.  I  had 
worked  out  a  theory  that  the  blotter  could  tell. 
Would  it  tell  it?  I  turned  the  magnifying  glass 
upon  it  with  bated  breath. 

The  mass  of  blur  was  so  heavy  that  at  first  I 
could  distinguish  nothing,  but  persevering  I  de- 
tected, at  length,  a  letter  for  which  I  looked  —  a 
capital  S.  After  a  little  further  study  I  found, 
also,  a  capital  P.  But  that  which  lay  between  the 
two  letters  was  too  indistinct  to  read. 

It  occurred  to  me  to  turn  the  blotter,  and  I  did 
so.  It  was  almost  as  much  used  on  the  one  side 
as  on  the  other.  No;  I  could  make  out  a  little 
more! 

With  the  help  of  the  lens  I  picked  out  innumer- 
able capitals  —  always  the  same,  P.  and  S.,  P.  and 
S.  But  soon  I  found  that  they  were  in  a  different 


WHAT   THE   BLOTTER   REVEALED    309 

style  of  handwriting.  Presently  I  found  the  key. 
One  was  the  handwriting  of  Peter  Somhers,  the 
other  of  Philander  Summerfield.  I  could  not 
doubt  it. 

I  sprang  to  my  feet  and  held  the  blotter  to  the 
mirror.  There  the  names  appeared  over  and  over 
again,  indistinct  and  in  places  almost  illegible,  but 
there,  nevertheless.  But  it  was  Philander  Sum- 
merfield always,  never  Peter  Somhers,  as  at  first 
I  supposed.  My  mistake  was  due  to  the  fact  that 
the  signature  changed  gradually  from  the  bold  up- 
rightness of  Peter  Somhers'  chirography  to  the 
smaller  hand  of  Philander  Summerfield! 

In  my  excitement  I  did  not  notice  the  approach 
of  footsteps  and  I  was  pacing  up  and  down  the 
tiny  room,  muttering  to  myself  when  Milbrath's 
voice  brought  me  back  to  my  senses. 

"  You  back  so  soon !  "  I  cried ;  "  was  no  one  at 
home?" 

"  The  evening  must  have  been  interesting  to 
you,"  he  answered  dryly.  "  It  is  considerably  past 
ten  o'clock." 

And  so  it  was.  The  two  hours  that  I  had  spent 
in  the  little  room  had  passed  like  so  many  minutes. 

"  What 's  the  matter  with  you,  old  man  ?  "  asked 
Milbrath,  coming  nearer  to  me.  "  Is  it  the  way 

the  light  falls  on  you  or  are  you Lord !  Bliss. 

You  are  pale  —  ghostly !  What 's  up  ?  " 

He  glanced  hastily  about  as  if  expecting  to  find 
the  reason  for  my  changed  color  in  some  tangible 
form,  and  his  eyes  paused  in  question  on  the  blotter 
that  I  still  held. 


310    THE    SNARE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

"  Come  here  and  pinch  me,"  I  said.  "  Pinch 
hard.  I  want  to  be  sure  that  I  'm  not  dreaming. 
Ouch !  Yes ;  that 's  real  enough.  Now,  see  whether 
this  is." 

I  outlined  with  a  pencil  the  letters  as  I  had 
found  them,  and  then  again  held  the  blotter  be- 
fore the  mirror. 

"  Whose  handwriting  is  it  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Why,  it 's  uncle's,"  answered  Milbrath  promptly. 

"  All  of  it  ?  " 

"  Well,  this,  surely,  is  his,  and  this,  and  this. 
Here  it  changes  and  is  almost  like  some  one's  else 
—  Summerfield's,  no  doubt,  and  here  it  is  entirely 
disguised." 

"Do  these  facts  signify  nothing  to  you,  Mil- 
brath?" 

Milbrath  looked  at  me  sharply. 

"I  suppose  they  show  that  uncle  was  to  take  on 
old  Summerfield's  handwriting  when  Summerfield 
became  him,  so  to  speak.  And  I  dare  say  it  may 
signify  what  I  hadn't  thought  of  before,  that  he 
purposed  to  be  Summerfield  during  the  time  —  a 
sort  of  change  of  mantles  —  if  that  is  what  you 
mean." 

"  It  is  not  at  all  what  I  mean.  It  seems  to  me 
altogether  unlikely  that  Mr.  Somhers  would  play 
the  part  of  Summerfield  while  Summerfield  was 
doing  Somhers.  I  wish  to  God  it  were  probable, 
though." 

"  Then,  for  heaven's  sake,  what  do  you  mean  ? " 
cried  Milbrath. 

In  answer  I  reached  under  the  desk  and  brought 


WHAT   THE   BLOTTER   REVEALED    311 

forth  a  book  that  I  had  found  there  behind  the 
typewriter  that  afternoon  when  I  took  the  machine 
out  to  get  a  sample  of  its  type. 

It  was  a  scrapbook  with  a  cover  of  red  and  white 
mottled  pasteboard,  and  on  the  back  of  black  linen 
was  pasted  a  square  of  white  paper  on  which  was 
labeled  in  the  bold,  upright  hand  that  was  un- 
questionably Mr.  Somhers',  one  word: 

"  PERSONAL." 

It  was  filled  with  newspaper  clippings,  and  as 
Milbrath  took  the  book  in  his  hands  and  opened  it 
I  knew  that  he  was  wondering,  as  I  had  wondered, 
what  on  earth  Peter  Somhers,  a  reticent,  retiring 
man,  could  have  found  about  himself  in  print,  or 
have  put  in  print,  that  would  fill  a  volume  like 
that. 

From  cover  to  cover  it  contained  nothing  but 
reports  of  the  coroner's  inquiry  into  the  death  of 
Peter  Somhers,  and  of  Harrison  Milbrath's  two 
trials ! 

Milbrath  fingered  the  leaves  of  the  book,  at  first 
with  a  surprised  expression,  and  then  with  a  puz- 
zled, questioning  look. 

Presently  he  looked  up  from  it  and  off  into  space. 
When  his  eyes  returned  to  mine,  I  knew  that  he 
had  reached  the  conclusion  that  seemed  inevitable. 

"  Great  God !  Bliss,"  he  whispered.  "  You  don't 
mean  to  tell  me  that  uncle  put  these  clippings  in 
here ;  that  —  he  —  is  —  Summerfield  ?  " 

"  It  looks  like  that" 

"  Then  he  is  La  Cour." 


312     THE    SNARE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

"Yes." 

Milbrath  hid  his  head  in  his  folded  arms  on  the 
couch  and  his  big  frame  shook  with  emotion.  Pres- 
ently he  lifted  his  chin  to  his  hands,  his  elbows 
resting  on  the  couch,  and  again  stared  off  into 
space.  He  appeared  to  be  thinking  deeply.  Then 
he  sat  upright  and  his  face  was  colorless. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  see  it  now  —  why  granddad 
McClure  flinched  at  the  name  of  Summerfield,  why 
he  could  not  tell  —  why  Arms  remained  here  so 
long,  and  why  he  harbored  —  La  Cour  —  Summer- 
field  —  him !  He  knew  something  which  we  have 
yet  to  learn,  something  that  we  have  probably  not 
dreamed  of  yet.  And  it  was  the  other,  the  real 
Summerfield,  who  lay  out  there  with  uncle's  ring 
upon  his  finger  and  fooled  the  world!  Yes,  yes. 
I  see  it  now ! " 

I  made  no  answer,  .and  after  a  moment  Milbrath 
continued : 

"  Can  it  be  that  the  compact  between  uncle  and 
Summerfield  was  that  Summerfield  was  to  die  ? " 

I  dissented  with  energy. 

"  Of  what  earthly  use  would  a  fortune  of  thirty 
thousand  dollars  be  to  a  dead  man  without 
friends  ? "  I  asked.  "  Moreover,  the  contract  stip- 
ulated that  the  impersonation  was  to  be  for  a  year, 
if  Mr.  Somhers  desired." 

Milbrath  groaned. 

"  So  it  did.  I  did  n't  credit  the  possibility, 
myself.  I  —  think  —  I  was  only  trying  to  find 
an  explanation  that  does  n't  make  the  truth  so 
hideous. 


WHAT   THE   BLOTTER   REVEALED    313 

"  I  don't  believe  this  is  all  new  to  me,"  he  went 
on  after  a  slight  pause.  "  Half  a  dozen  times  I  've 
been  on  the  point  of  asking  you  whether  the  eyes 
of  the  man  called  Summerfield,  whom  we  've  both 
seen,  were  not  more  like  uncle's  than  Summerfield's 
of  the  picture.  So,  I  Ve  been  pretty  near  the  brink 
of  a  revelation,  you  see.  But,  Bliss,  how  can  it 
be  just  as  it  looks  now?  Uncle  would  never  kill. 
Why,  he  was  not  even  a  sportsman  because  he  could 
not  see  blood  shed.  It  must  have  been  an  accident 
—  the  death  of  Summerfield,  as  you  proved  that 
of  Arms  to  be." 

I  wished  with  all  my  heart  that  I  could  en- 
courage Milbrath. 

"  That  might  be,"  I  answered,  "  but  his  reason 
for  letting  the  body  be  found  as  it  was  —  of  per- 
mitting it  to  be  mistaken  for  his  —  and  for  letting 
you  bear  the  responsibility  for  the  —  accident  ? 
How  do  you  explain  those  things  ? " 

Milbrath  gazed  at  me  silently,  and  the  light  that 
had  sprung  to  his  eyes  nickered  out. 

"  He  is  the  only  one  who  can  answer  those  ques- 
tions," he  said  presently.  "  But  there  is  some  ter- 
rible mistake  still  to  be  explained,  or  Uncle  Peter 
was  not  the  man  I  always  believed  him." 

I  had  long  since  reached  the  conclusion  that 
Peter  Somhers  had  not  lived  the  life  of  an  up- 
right man,  but  it  was  useless,  without  proof,  to 
upset  Milbrath's  beautiful  faith  in  his  uncle's 
integrity. 

There  was  a  long  pause.  Then  Milbrath  rose 
wearily. 


314    THE    SNAKE    OF    CIRCUMSTANCE 

"  If  you  will  excuse  me  I  think  I  will  go  to  my 
room  now,"  he  said,  and  as  he  passed  me  he  laid 
a  hand  upon  my  shoulder. 

"  You  've  been  a  good  friend  to  me,  Bliss,  and  I 
appreciate  your  efforts  of  the  last  weeks.  I  'd 
give  everything  I  own  to  change  the  past  for  him ; 
but  since  it  is  unalterable,  I  suppose  it  is  better 
that  I  should  know  the  facts  and  make  the  best  of 
them.  Of  course  this  last  discovery  changes  the 
aspect  of  everything.  We  can  no  longer  go  on  in 
our  efforts  to  bring  him  to  justice.  You  under- 
stand?" 

"  I  know  what  you  mean.  But  you  forget  that 
the  police  are  after  La  Cour,  and  it  is  only  a  matter 
of  time  when  he  will  be  brought  to  Beverly  to  ex- 
plain his  connection  with  the  Arms  tragedy.  It 's 
up  to  him  to  make  good  then,  and  I  believe  he  '11 
do  it  for  that  case.  But  the  other!  In  the  cir- 
cumstances would  it  not  be  wiser  for  us  to  write 
to  him  —  or  see  him  if  we  can  —  and  let  him 
know  that  we  know  who  he  is  ? " 

Milbrath  considered  the  question  for  a  moment; 
then  he  signified  his  acquiescence. 

"  Will  you  write  ?  Tell  him  that  I  bear  no  ill 
will  against  him." 

I  followed  Milbrath  out  of  the  little  room,  but 
paused  in  the  library  to  write  a  short  letter  which 
I  addressed  to  "  Philander  Summerfield." 

Then  I  went  out  to  the  portico  and  endeavored 
to  turn  my  thoughts  from  the  revelations  of  the 
evening  into  pleasant  channels.  But  no  sooner 
came  a  moment's  diversion  than  the  muffled  sound 


WHAT   THE   BLOTTER   RE.VEALED    315 

of  footfalls  in  Milbrath's  room  brought  me  back 
with  a  shock  to  the  remorseless  present. 

Milbrath's  face  had  aged  visibly  when  we  met 
at  the  breakfast  table  seven  hours  later.  I  won- 
dered whether  he  had  found  any  rest,  for,  until 
dawn  I  had  heard  him  moving  about  his  room, 
which  was  next  to  mine. 

When  I  had  given  Gaspard  orders  to  be  ready 
to  drive  us  to  the  Beverly  station  at  ten  o'clock, 
and  the  man  had  left  the  room,  Milbrath  turned 
to  me  in  question. 

"  To  Boston  ?  " 

"  Yes ;    you  are  to  go  with  me,  you  know." 

"  That  was  yesterday.  Bliss,  we  can't  go  on 
hunting  him  down,  we  simply  can't.  If  the  police 
get  him  for  the  Arms  affair,  that 's  another  matter 
and  we  can  try  to  get  him  out  of  it  without  betray- 
ing him.  But  this  is  different.  I  'm  the  one  who 
is  most  concerned  now,  you  see,  and  I  want  to  drop 
the  case." 

"And  I  don't  want  to  drop  it.  I  can't  drop  it 
now." 

Milbrath  was  silent  for  a  brief  space.  When  he 
spoke  his  voice  appealed. 

"  Bliss,"  he  said.  "  You  've  been  my  friend  in 
need  and  I  hope  that  you  are  not  going  back  on  me  ?" 

"Never!" 

"  Then  will  it  make  any  difference  in  your  pres- 
ent determination  to  go  on  if  I  tell  you  that  it 
would  only  be  doubling  my  trouble  for  you  to  suc- 
ceed? I  believe  life  would  be  unbearable  to  me  if 
you  exposed  that  old  man !  " 


316     THE    SNAKE    OF    CIRCUMSTANCE 

"  You  will  see  things  in  a  different  light  some 
time.  Two  wrongs  never  made  a  right,  remember." 

Milbrath  hesitated. 

"  Once  I  offered  to  double  Summerfield's  reward 
if  you  found  the  person  who  killed  uncle.  Will 
you  believe  that  I  know  my  mind  at  this  moment 
if  I  agree  to  treble  the  sum  if  you  will  drop  the 
case  as  it  stands  now?  This  is  an  expression  of 
my  wishes ;  it  is  not  a  bribe." 

Treble  the  sum!  That  would  mean  sixty  thou- 
sand dollars !  And  if  I  declined  this  proposition 
what  could  I  hope  to  gain  from  my  summer's  work  ? 
Nothing;  absolutely  nothing.  I  could  no  longer 
claim  Summerfield's  reward,  nor  Milbrath's,  if  I 
went  on  now  against  his  wishes. 

Perhaps  it  was  that  I  wanted  the  glory  of  hav- 
ing won,  of  having  solved  a  riddle  wrongly  an- 
swered by  some  of  the  cleverest  detective  skill  in 
the  country.  I  do  not  know.  But  certain  it  is 
that  my  indecision  was  for  a  moment  only. 

"  I  can't  drop  it  —  can't  drop  it,"  I  declared 
with  reiterated  obstinacy.  "  I  'm  your  friend,  yes ; 
and  it  is  my  duty,  if  there  were  no  other  reason, 
to  keep  you  from  taking  a  step  that  will  only  add 
to  your  unhappiness  in  the  long  run.  But  this 
much  I  will  promise,  Milbrath.  By  no  mischance 
that  I  am  responsible  for,  shall  he  be  arrested  or  his 
case  made  public  —  or  until  you  give  the  word. 
What  I  want  is  to  talk  with  him,  man  to  man. 
Perhaps  then  we  may  find  a  way  wholly  to  vindi- 
cate you  while  concealing  the  awkward  truth." 

"  Give  me  your  hand  on  that,"  said  Milbrath. 


WHAT   THE    BLOTTER   REVEALED    317 

And  we  shook.  "  Now  I  will  go  with  you  any- 
where, and  do  your  bidding  as  before.  Ten 
o'clock  we  are  to  leave  here,  did  you  say  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  that  will  give  me  a  moment's  talk  at 
the  station  with  the  Pingree  Agency  man  who  is 
due  here  about  that  time." 

"  A  detective  down  here !     At  Overlook  ?  " 

"  To  .join  forces  with  Gaspard.  I  can't  leave 
him  here  alone  while  Summerfield  is  at  large,  im- 
probable as  it  is  that  he  will  ever  return." 

Milbrath  offered  no  comment  to  this  explana- 
tion ;  and  we  each  smoked  a  cigar  in  the  shade  of 
the  morning-glory  vines  on  the  side  porch  with 
the  passing  of  scarcely  a  word  until  Gaspard  drew 
rein  before  us  in  the  dogcart  and  thus  reminded  us 
that  the  time  had  arrived  for  us  to  depart. 

When  we  reached  Boston  there  was  a  letter 
awaiting  me  at  the  Parker  House.  It  had  been 
mailed  from  Station  C  in  Boston  on  the  previous 
day  and  consisted  of  one  piece  of  paper.  On  it  was 
written : 

DEAR  YOUNG  MAN:  A  free  conscience  has  no  need 
for  worry.  Being  innocent  of  the  crime  against  the 
man  Arms  I  find  no  reason  to  surrender  myself  for  ex- 
amination, as  you  suggest. 

When  it  seems  desirable  to  have  another  conference 
with  you  I  shall  again  communicate  with  you. 
Yours  with  respect, 

PHILANDER  SUMMERFIELD. 

"  Jove !  There  's  finished  villainy  for  you !  "  I 
exclaimed  to  Milbrath.  "  Well,  we  '11  see  whether 


318     THE    SNARE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

our  next  conference  awaits  upon  Mr.  Summer- 
field's  time !  By  the  way,  do  you  observe  how  this 
letter  is  addressed?  Not  to  Winton,  from  where 
my  communications  to  him  have  been  dated,  but 
here  —  to  this  hotel !  " 


CHAPTEK   XXXV 

BUN    TO    EAKTH 

WE  had  been  in  Boston  for  three  days  before 
anything  of  note  occurred.  During  that 
time  we  were  in  daily  communication  with  the  men 
on  the  case  and  were  led  into  following  up  one  or 
two  false  clues.  But  even  that  was  just  as  well, 
perhaps,  for  activity  with  disappointing  results 
was  better  for  us  at  that  time  than  idleness. 

In  every  morning's  mail  came  a  report  from 
Crandall,  the  detective  stationed  at  Overlook,  but 
there  had  been  no  news  in  any  one  of  them. 

On  Monday  morning  an  envelope  postmarked 
"  Richmond,  Va.,"  lay  among  the  letters  awaiting 
me  in  the  hotel  office.  I  found  that  it  was  signed 
by  "  Herbert  Harris,"  and  in  substance  was  as 
follows : 

My  attention  has  been  attracted  by  your  extraor- 
dinary advertisement  in  the  Richmond  Times  of  to-day. 

A  Philander  Summerfield  was  an  instructor  in  his- 
tory in  the  University  of  Virginia  for  two  years,  18 — 
to  18 — .  He  was  a  man  of  ability,  but  wasted  his  best 
energies  in  dreams  of  things  that  he  never  accomplished. 

I  was  an  assistant  in  the  university  at  the  time  of  his 
instructorship  there  and  came  to  know  him  well.  He 
was  a  man  of  forty,  or  thereabouts,  I  should  judge,  of 


320     THE    SNARE    OF    CIRCUMSTANCE 

medium  height,  and  with  dark  brown  hair  and  a  mus- 
tache of  the  same  color.  He  was  inclined  to  stoop,  and 
was  somewhat  negligent  in  his  dress.  His  eyes  were 
his  most  remarkable  feature,  light  blue-gray  with 
heavy  white  lids  which  betrayed  his  tendency  to  the 
impractical. 

He  left  Charlottesville  to  accept  a  position  as  tutor 
to  the  son  of  a  wealthy  New  Yorker,  and  the  last  that 
I  heard  of  him  —  about  three  years  later  —  he  was  still 
with  the  young  man  and  traveling  in  Europe. 

If  there  is  any  further  information  that  I  can  give 
you  about  Mr.  Summerfield,  please  call  upon  me. 

"  There,"  I  said,  tossing  the  letter  to  Milbrath, 
"  what  do  you  think  of  that  ?  " 

Milbrath  read  the  letter  through  and  handed  it 
back  to  me. 

"  I  cannot  see  that  we  have  gained  much,"  he 
said  thoughtfully.  -  "  Whether,  for  instance,  he  left 
any  near  relatives.  Yes ;  I  know  that  he  told  Mr. 
Grayson  that  he  had  no  living  relatives  —  but  he 
may  have  had,  and  if  we  can  do  anything  for 
them " 

"  Yes ;  well,  will  you  come  with  me  ? "  I  said, 
starting  up. 

"Where?" 

"  To  a  photographer,  the  first  who  can  do  some 
copying  this  morning." 

"  You  mean  to  have  the  picture  of  uncle 
copied  ? " 

"  Yes,  with  your  permission,  and  the  other. 
We  shall  see  whether  Mr.  Herbert  Harris  recog- 
nizes one  of  them  as  the  Philander  Summerfield 
he  knew." 


RUN   TO    EARTH  321 

We  were  not  long  in  finding  a  photographer 
who  could  copy,  develop  and  print  the  pictures  for 
us,  and  that  afternoon  a  special  delivery  letter  left 
the  Boston  post  office  for  Mr.  Herbert  Harris, 
Richmond,  Virginia. 

The  answer  was  as  prompt,  and  reached  me 
three  days  later  in  an  hour  of  excitement. 

Mr.  Harris  knew  his  man,  unquestionably. 

Although  considerably  aged  since  I  last  saw  him,  the 
print  that  I  have  marked  with  a  cross  is  without  doubt 
of  Mr.  Summerfield.  The  expression  of  the  eyes  is  un- 
mistakable. The  other  print,  while  very  like  him,  must 
be  of  another  man. 

Answering  your  inquiry  as  to  Mr.  Summerfield'a 
family  connections,  I  regret  that  I  can  give  you  little 
information  on  the  point.  That  he  had  no  immediate 
relatives  I  am  certain,  for  I  remember  that  he  alluded 
to  the  fact  on  several  occasions. 

"  The  brother  story  was  all  a  pleasant  fiction  on 
Mr.  Somhers'  part,"  I  remarked  —  "  when  he  called 
upon  Grayson,  you  know." 

Milbrath  nodded. 

"  I  did  not  doubt  it  in  the  least,"  he  said,  "  the 
only  question  in  my  mind  now  is  concerning  this 
Summerfield  himself  —  his  identity." 

"  And  that  we  shall  soon  know,  if  I  am  not  mis- 
taken," I  answered. 

We  had  just  received  a  message  from  the  Pin- 
gree  Agency  that  one  of  our  men  was  starting  to 
us  with  news  and  he  was  announced  at  that 
moment. 

21 


322     THE    SNARE    OF    CIRCUMSTANCE 

"  We  have  traced  the  old  gentleman,  sir,"  he 
said  to  Milbrath  as  he  entered. 

My  heart  jumped  into  my  throat  and  my  quick 
glance  at  Milbrath  showed  me  that  he  had  gone  white 
to  the  lips. 

"  Tell  us  about  it,"  he  managed  to  articulate,  as 
he  motioned  the  man  to  a  chair. 

"  I  'm  on  the  post  office  day  watch,  sir,  and  this 
morning,  just  as  I  was  going  on  duty,  who  should 
I  see  at  the  main  entrance  but  the  old  man.  His 
maneuvers  first  attracted  my  attention,  for  he 
seemed  to  be  peering  into  the  lobby  as  if  ready  to 
turn  back  on  the  instant.  As  soon  as  I  made  sure 
he  was  the  man  I  wanted,  I  called  a  herdic  and 
stood  waiting  by  the  curb  when  he  came  out  fol- 
lowed by  the  night  watch.  Evidently  the  old  man 
did  n't  suspect  he.  was  followed  till  he  looked  back 
and  saw  Mr.  Hays  —  the  other  man,  sir.  But  he 
knew  it  then,  for  he  darted  down  the  steps  like  a 
rabbit  and  ran  for  a  cab  that  was  standing  near. 
Hays  and  I  had  agreed  upon  some  signals  for  use  in 
a  situation  like  this,  and  I  signaled  to  him  to 
hold  back  and  let  the  old  man  think  he  had  made 
a  mistake  in  believing  he  was  followed,  while  I  kept 
behind  him.  So  when  the  old  gentleman  drove 
on,  I  drove  on;  when  his  horse  trotted  mine  did 
likewise,  when  his  went  slow,  mine  went  ditto.  We 
wound  around  the  city  unnecessarily,  I  should 

judge,  and  brought  up  in  Dorchester  at  116 

Street.  I  saw  the  old  gentleman  go  in  by  latchkey 
at  that  address.  That,  I  believe,  sir,  is  all  that  you 
instructed  me  to  do  ?  " 


RUN   TO   EARTH  323 

"  Yes,"  answered  Milbrath,  "  that  was  all.  And 
that  is  all  you  did  ?  " 

"  It  is,  sir,  except  to  return  to  the  agency  and 
report,  and  I  was  sent  direct  to  you  —  to  Mr.  Bliss, 
was  the  name." 

"  Mr.  Bliss  is  my  friend  here,  but  in  this  case 
it  is  all  the  same." 

"  Very  well,  sir."  And  bidding  us  good  day  he 
was  gone. 

I  put  on  my  mackintosh  and  picked  up  an  um- 
brella—  for  there  was  a  drizzling  rain  outside  — 
but  Milbrath  made  no  move  to  accompany  me. 
He  sat  with  one  elbow  on  a  chair  arm  and  his  head 
in  his  hand. 

"  Are  you  not  going  with  me  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  suppose  so.  You  will  not  take  the  police  into 
your  confidence  ? " 

"  Not  at  present.  Not  at  all,  probably,  unless 
you  are  willing." 

We  found  the  house  we  sought  to  be  a  modest 
and  neat  three-story  and  basement  brick  structure. 
There  was  an  apothecary's  shop  on  the  corner  next 
door,  and  we  went  in  there  and  made  inquiry 
about  the  house.  It  was  conducted  by  Mrs.  Ray- 
mond, the  clerk  told  us,  and  was  a  quiet  and  ex- 
clusive furnished-room  place. 

Thus  primed,  we  called  upon  Mrs.  Raymond, 
an  intelligent  woman  past  middle  life. 

"  Had  she  any  rooms  to  rent  ?  Yes ;  two,  en 
suite,  vacated  unexpectedly  that  morning." 

On  what  floor  ? 

The  second ;  fine  large  rooms  with  a  private  bath 
'between  them. 


324    THE    SNARE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

We  asked  to  see  the  rooms,  and  were  shown  up 
a  comfortably  carpeted  staircase  to  a  room  looking 
out  upon  the  street  through  a  "  swell  front "  win- 
dow. It  was  unusually  well  furnished  for  a  lodg- 
ing house,  and  I  think  the  landlady  saw  our 
interchange  of  surprised  glances  as  Milbrath  and 
I  looked  around  us,  for  she  remarked  that  a  recent 
long  illness  of  her  husband  had  made  it  necessary 
for  her  to  throw  open  her  house  temporarily. 

The  rear  room  was  furnished  as  a  sleeping  room, 
and  both  rooms  and  the  bath  were  pictures  of 
comfort. 

"  You  have  an  acquaintance  of  ours  with  you," 
I  said  abruptly  as  we  looked  about,  "  Mr.  Sum- 
merfield  ? " 

Mrs.  Raymond  repeated  the  name  and  shook 
her  head. 

"  No  person  of  that  name  has  ever  roomed  here," 
she  said. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon !  "  I  cried  in  amazement, 
"  I  was  told  only  this  morning  that  he  was  here." 

"  I  have  never  heard  the  name  before." 

"  An  elderly  gentleman  with  a  gray  beard  and 
light-blue  eyes." 

"  That  answers  the  description  of  Mr.  Emerson, 
who  had  these  rooms." 

"  And  left  to-day  ?  Queer  if  Summerfield  as- 
sumed a  name,"  I  remarked  in  a  theatrical  aside 
and  looked  at  Milbrath. 

"  Did  he  tell  you  where  he  was  leaving  for, 
madam  ?  " 

Mrs.  Raymond  answered  us  in  the  negative,  and 
regarded  us  questioningly. 


RUN   TO    EARTH  325 

"  When  he  engaged  the  rooms  two  weeks  ago 
he  paid  me  in  advance  for  a  month,  but  told  me 
that  he  might  be  called  away  at  any  moment,  and 
to-day  the  summons  evidently  came.  He  left 
scarcely  more  than  an  hour  ago." 

"  Ah !  I  wonder  whether  the  poor  old  man  re- 
ceived bad  news  from  home  ?  " 

"  Why,  did  he  have  a  home  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Ray- 
mond in  surprise.  "  I  have  no  wish  to  gossip 
about  him,  but  he  scarcely  appeared  like  a  home 
man.  He  was  very  uneasy  and  nervous  most  of 
the  time  and  I  fancied  that  he  had  some  business 
worry.  When  he  came  he  told  me  that  he  was 
without  acquaintances  in  Boston,  but  as  I  require 
references  he  asked  me  to  call  upon  the  First 
National  Bank." 

That  was  the  bank,  I  recalled,  to  which  he  had 
referred  me. 

"  Do  you  expect,"  I  said  presently,  "  that  he  will 
return  ?  We  were  influenced  to  come  here,  which 
is  a  little  out  of  our  way,  because  we  understood 
that  he  was  here.  We  are  visitors  in  Boston  from 
his  home  town,"  I  added  at  a  venture. 

"  He  told  me  not  to  keep  the  rooms  for  him," 
Mrs.  Raymond  answered  hesitatingly. 

I  searched  the  room  eagerly  with  my  eyes  as  we 
talked,  hoping  to  find  a  piece  of  paper  or  some 
other  bit  overlooked  by  the  recent  tenant  which 
would  help  us.  But  apparently  he  had  been  cau- 
tious to  leave  absolutely  nothing  behind,  and  we 
took  our  leave  presently  without  having  gained 
very  much  through  our  ruse,  or,  I  regret  to  say, 


326     THE    SNARE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

without  having  in  any  way  enriched  the  accom- 
modating Mrs.  Raymond. 

I  was  inexpressibly  chagrined  and  correspond- 
ingly disappointed  that  I  had  permitted  Mr.  Smn- 
merfield  again  to  slip  through  my  fingers.  I  began 
to  have  an  uncomfortable  feeling  that  he  was  too 
clever  for  me,  and  it  put  me  upon  my  keenest 
mettle. 

It  was  evident  that  the  old  fellow  had  divined 
that  we  were  again  upon  his  scent,  hence  his  hasty 
departure  from  his  comfortable  quarters  with  Mrs. 
Raymond,  and,  logically,  he  would  leave  town  this 
time,  but  —  for  where  ? 

As  soon  as  we  were  away  from  Mrs.  Raymond 
I  asked  Milbrath  to  go  to  the  North  Station  and 
watch  for  Summerfield  at  the  entrance  to  the 
trains,  follow  him  if  he  saw  him  and  telegraph 
me  where  to  join  him.  Then  I  telephoned  to  the 
Pingree  Agency  and  had  men  detailed  immediately 
for  a  similar  purpose  at  the  other  stations.  I 
went  myself  to  the  Park  Square  Station,  where, 
only  the  day  before,  we  had  abandoned  a  watch. 

I  left  instructions  to  deliver  at  once  any  message 
that  might  come  for  me,  and  then  I  made  the 
acquaintance  of  the  gateman  and  adroitly  put  a 
few  questions.  I  did  not  speak  of  Summerfield's 
rounded  shoulders,  for  I  began  to  surmise  that, 
like  his  handwriting,  they  were  assumed.  But  so 
far  as  the  gateman  could  recall  no  elderly  man  at 
all  like  Mr.  Summerfield  had  passed  that  way 
during  the  past  hour  and  a  half  —  which  was  one 
of  the  quietest  periods  in  the  day  at  that  station. 


RUN   TO    EARTH  32? 

About  eleven  o'clock  a  boy  brought  me  this 
telegram : 

Have  the  old  gentleman  in  sight.  Will  keep  you  in- 
formed by  wire  to  Parker  House. 

BRIDGEMAN. 

In  less  time  than  it  takes  to  write  it  I  was  out 
of  the  Park  Square  Station,  in  a  herdic,  and  on 
my  way  to  pick  up  Milbrath  and  together  we  re- 
turned to  the  hotel.  What  Bridgeman  could  be 
thinking  of  to  leave  us  for  six  hours  without  news 
after  that  I  could  not,  at  the  time,  imagine.  But 
from  noon  until  nearly  six  o'clock  we  tried  to  kill 
time  in  the  lobby  and  cafe  of  the  Parker  House. 
At  last,  when  I  think  we  could  have  waited  no 
longer,  a  telegram  was  handed  to  me.  It  contained 
but  one  sentence: 

Chequomegan  House,  Lyndeth,  Mass.,  on  North 
Shore.  BRIDGEMAN. 

"  How  in  the Well,  how  do  you  get  to 

Lyndeth,  anyway  ? "  I  asked  Milbrath. 

"  Give  it  up,"  he  answered.  "  Here,  perhaps 
the  clerk  may  know." 

Fortunately  the  clerk  at  the  desk  knew,  and 
with  the  additional  assistance  of  a  railway  map,  a 
time-table,  a  cab,  a  railroad  and  perhaps  a  few 
other  accessories,  we  found  ourselves  in  Lyndeth 
just  as  the  last  streaks  of  daylight  were  saying 
good  night  to  the  rock-bound  shore. 

A  bus,  boldly  lettered,  "  Chequomegan  House," 


328    THE    SNAKE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

was  backed  up  with  invitingly  opened  door  against 
the  covered  platform  of  the  station,  and  into  it  we 
stepped  —  the  only  passengers  —  and  presently  we 
were  rumbling  over  hard  and  level  roads  so  white 
in  the  evening  light  as  to  look  as  if  made  of  sea 
sand. 

Lyndeth  is  a  tree-cloistered  suburb  of  a  great 
manufacturing  center,  and  the  two  hotels  —  quiet 
summer  hostelries  —  stood  almost  side  by  side 
among  the  trees  a  hundred  feet,  or  more,  from  the 
edge  of  the  rocky  bluff  that  forms  the  ocean  front- 
age. A  little  to  the  north  a  smooth,  white  beach 
reaches  townward;  to  the  south  a  finger  of  land 
jutsr  into  the  ocean  and  upholds  the  beacon  light 
which,  with  the  rolling  bell-buoy  just  below,  for 
years  has  warned  the  passing  seamen  of  the  dangers 
of  that  shore. 

Bridgeman  proved  to  be  the  detective  who  had 
called  upon  us  in  the  morning.  He  stood  on  the 
steps  of  the  Chequomegan  House  as  we  drove  up. 

"  He 's  in  there,"  he  said  respectfully,  with  a 
jerk  of  his  thumb  backward,  as  we  stepped  upon 
the  veranda. 

"  What  name  ?  " 

"La  Cour.     Richard  La  Cour." 

"  From  where  ?  " 

"  From  Paris,  France,  he  has  registered." 

"And  you?" 

"  I  'm  registered  also.  Room  opposite  his.  Told 
the  clerk  the  old  fellow  was  irresponsible  and  I  was 
following  quietly." 

"Good!" 


RUN   TO   EARTH  329 

I  drew  Milbrath  to  one  side. 

"  I  shall  stand  by  my  promise  not  to  bring  him 
to  public  notice  without  your  consent,"  I  said, 
"  but  if  he  endeavors  to  outwit  us  again  before  we 
have  the  truth  from  his  lips,  you  are  willing,  I 
hope,  that  Bridgeman  should  follow  him  ? " 

"  Oh  yes ;  no  doubt  that  would  be  best.  We 
must  have  his  story." 

"  Then  I  will  instruct  Bridgeman,"  and  I  turned 
to  the  detective. 

"  We  mean  to  see  this  Mr.  La  Cour  before  we 
leave  here,"  I  said.  "  We  have  no  warrant  for  his 
arrest,  and,  probably,  shall  make  no  effort  to  de- 
tain him,  but  we  don't  want  him,  by  any  chance, 
to  give  us  the  slip  before  we  have  talked  with  him. 
You  understand  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Very  well.  Then  we  shall  leave  him  in  your 
hands.  We  shall  register  and  go  to  our  rooms  and 
later  will  communicate  with  you.  Have  you  man- 
aged to  dine  ?  " 

"  Not  yet,  sir.  Men  of  my  profession  can  do 
with  very  little  when  need  be." 

"  Better  order  something  to  your  room,  never- 
theless, and  make  an  excuse  to  keep  your  door 
open,  even  if  you  see  Mr.  Milbrath  and  myself  go 
into  the  old  man's  room." 

"Yes,  sir." 

Milbrath  and  I  registered,  and  were  assigned 
to  adjoining  rooms  on  the  second  floor,  at  the  other 
end  of  the  hall,  I  soon  found,  from  the  ones  occu- 
pied by  Bridgeman  and  his  man. 


330    THE    SNARE    OF    CIRCUMSTANCE 

Before  the  call  boy  left  us  I  instructed  him  to 
take  the  envelope  that  I  gave  him  to  Mr.  La  Cour 
and  to  await  an  answer.  The  envelope,  which  was 
sealed  and  addressed,  contained  both  Milbrath's  card 
and  mine,  and  on  the  paper  which  enfolded  them 
I  had  penciled: 

MB.  SOMHEES  :  We  are  here  to  know  the  truth,  and 
we  shall  follow  you  now  until  we  see  you  face  to 
face  and  learn  from  your  lips  the  reason  for  this 
melodrama. 

It  is  Mr.  Milbrath's  expressed  wish  that  you  shall  not 
be  punished  for  the  great  wrong  you  have  done  him, 
or  for  that  other  wrong  for  which  you  must  answer  at 
another  than  an  earthly  tribunal.  But  we  must  talk 
man  to  man,  and  find  a  way  not  only  to  clear  your 
nephew's  name  from  the  dishonor  which,  under  present 
conditions,  must  always  be  associated  with  it,  but  a 
way  to  clear  Hereford,  who  is  charged  with  the  murder 
of  Arms.  ELMER  BLISS. 

It  was  ten  minutes  before  the  boy  was  back.  He 
handed  me  a  letter  which  was  not  only  sealed  in 
its  envelope  of  lined  linen  paper,  but  sealed,  as 
well,  with  wax.  It  was  addressed  to  me,  and  was 
as  follows: 

MR.  BLISS:  Pray  grant  me  to-night's  rest  before  I 
meet  you.  I  am  worn  out  both  nervously  and  physi- 
cally, and  there  is  a  statement  begun  in  writing  which 
I  must  finish  before  we  can  discuss  the  matters  to 
which  you  have  referred.  At  whatever  hour  you  may 
name  you  may  come  to  me  in  the  morning.  I  shall  not 
try  to  evade  you  this  time.  I  have  no  desire  to  do  so ; 


RUN   TO   EARTH  331 

but  if  I  had,  the  man  in  the  room  across  the  hall  would 
doubtless  restrain  me.  I  observed  him  on  the  train 
to-day,  but  did  not  suspect  at  the  time  that  he  was  your 
agent.  P.  S. 

I  handed  this  note  to  Milbrath.  There  was  no 
disguise  in  the  handwriting  this  time.  It  was  bold 
and  upright,  though  it  betrayed  evidence  of  bodily 
weakness  or  great  mental  perturbation. 

Milbrath  read  it  through  like  a  man  in  a  dream, 
and  then  he  leaned  his  head  back  on  the  high  back 
of  the  chair  in  which  he  sat  and  closed  his  eyes. 

The  boy,  whom  I  had  forgotten,  was  regarding 
first  one  and  then  the  other  of  us  with  quick  eyes 
that  bulged  with  curiosity.  I  dismissed  him  and 
walked  down  the  hall  behind  him  to  Bridgeman's 
room. 

"  We  shall  have  to  make  an  all  night  watch  of 
it,"  I  said  briefly.  "  Can  you  rest  now  and  let 
me  take  your  place  until  two  o'clock  ? " 

Bridgeman's  face  betrayed  no  surprise.  I  dare 
say  he  was  accustomed  to  the  unexpected  in  pretty 
nearly  every  form. 

"  I  could,  no  doubt,  sir ;  but,  if  you  will  pardon 
me,  it  is  wholly  unnecessary,  unless  you  have  a 
special  wish  to  be  here.  I  am  frequently  on  duty 
all  night  as  well  as  all  day,  and  of  late  it  has  been 
all  night  instead  of  all  day." 

"  It  is  hard  to  tell  what  to-morrow  may  bring 
forth.  You  may  regret  it  if  you  do  not  sleep 
to-night." 

Bridgeman  shook  his  head  with  a  smile. 

"I'll  take  that  risk,  sir,"  he  said.     "And,  if 


332     THE    SNAKE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

you  will  excuse  me,  I  think  I  might  say  that  it 
is  you  who  are  in  need  of  rest." 

When  I  came  to  think  of  it  I  felt  that  Bridge- 
man  was  right.  The  day  of  idle  suspense  had  been 
as  hard  for  me  as  two  days  of  action.  I  decided 
to  get  a  good  night's  rest  if  I  could. 

In  the  night  some  time  I  awakened  suddenly  from 
what  seemed  to  be  a  dreamless  sleep  with  that  curi- 
ous tightness  of  the  heartstrings  which  I  had  ex- 
perienced in  coming  out  of  a  nightmare.  My  first 
thought  was  that  something  unusual  was  happen- 
ing near  me;  that  there  were  voices  in  the  air. 
But  a  moment's  silent  attention  convinced  me  that 
my  impression  was  merely  the  effect  of  a  dream 
that  I  did  not  recall,  and. I  settled  back  among  the 
pillows  to  sleep  again. 

But  I  had  been  too  thoroughly  roused  to  sleep 
at  once,  and  I  found  that  I  was  beset  by  a  curious 
apprehensiveness  which,  inasmuch  as  I  could  find 
no  reason  for  it,  I  tried  to  shake  off  as  fanciful  and 
old  womanish.  But  it  would  not  leave  me,  and, 
presently,  with  an  irritated  conviction  that  I  might 
as  well  put  on  petticoats  and  trailed  skirts,  and 
admit  myself  a  creature  of  nerves,  I  rose  and  lighted 
the  gas. 

Then  I  knew  what  ailed  me.  I  had  old  Somhers 
on  my  mind,  and  was  harassed  with  a  fear  that 
after  all  he  was  going  to  give  us  the  slip  again 
somehow.  The  logical  course  for  him  now  was  to 
put  a  bullet  in  his  brains,  and  end  the  melodrama 
—  for  him,  yes;  but  Milbrath?  What  if,  after 
all,  Milbrath  must  go  on  to  the  end  of  his  days 


RUN   TO    EARTH  333 

without  the  vindication  that  was  his  right  —  go 
on  as  he  was  going  or  denounce  his  uncle?  He 
would  carry  his  dishonor  to  his  grave,  then,  I  felt 
sure.  I  wondered  that  I  had  not  thought  of  the 
possibility  of  such  an  end  to  our  pursuit,  and  I 
anathematized  myself  again  and  again  for  my  lack 
of  foresight  and  my  laxness  in  not  insisting  upon 
an  interview  with  Somhers  on  the  previous  evening. 

I  found  "  Black  Beauty  "  in  my  bag,  and  lighted 
it.  A  few  puffs  put  me  on  a  better  footing  with 
myself  and  the  world. 

Outside,  a  September  gale  howled  like  a  delighted 
banshee,  and  hurtled  the  rain  in  wide  slaps  against 
the  window  panes.  I  lowered  the  gas  and  pulled 
up  the  shade  before  one  of  the  drenched  windows. 
The  trees  on  the  lawn  about  the  house  glistened  in 
the  light  of  the  city  lamps,  which  were  still  burn- 
ing, and  bent  and  shook  in  the  face  of  the  wind. 
Beyond  the  row  of  lamps  that  marked  the  edge  of 
the  bluff  I  could  not  see,  but  the  roar  of  the  surf 
as  it  pounded  unceasingly  against  the  rocks  hinted 
of  the  seething  waters  a  little  farther  out. 

Once  or  twice  it  seemed  to  me  I  caught  a  glimpse 
of  figures,  moving  about  on  the  bluff,  but  I  de- 
cided it  to  be  another  evidence  of  my  still  unsteady 
nerves. 

After  a  time  I  returned  to  bed,  and  toward  dawn 
I  again  slept. 

Soon  after  seven  o'clock  Milbrath  tapped  at  my 
door.  He  looked  refreshed,  and  said  that  after 
midnight  he  had  rested  well.  I  had  just  finished 
dressing,  so  we  left  the  room  together. 


334    THE    SNAKE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

As  our  door  closed  behind  us  Bridgeman  stepped 
from  his  room  and  came  toward  us.  He  had  brushed 
and  shaved  and  freshened  his  appearance  with  a 
change  of  linen,  but  his  face  was  pale  and  anxious. 

"  I  'm  sorry  to  report  it,  sirs,"  he  said,  glancing 
from  one  to  the  other  of  us  a  little  nervously,  "  but 
the  old  gentleman,  Mr.  La  Cour,  went  over  the 
cliff  in  the  night." 


"  Mr.  La  Cour  went  over  the  cliff  in  the  night." 
Page  334. 


CHAPTER    XXXVI 

"  THE   WAGES    OP   SIN  " 

"TITILBRATH  staggered  forward  a  step  and  then 
-!-*-•-  swayed  toward  me.  I  thought  that  he  had 
swooned,  but  he  caught  himself  against  a  wall  and 
revived  at  once. 

"  What  is  that  you  said  ? "  he  cried  sharply, 
"Mr.  La  Cour  dead?" 

Bridgeman  nodded,  and  motioned  us  into  his 
room  and  closed  the  door. 

"  Will  you  have  chairs  and  hear  about  it  now, 
or  will  you  breakfast  first  ?  "  he  asked. 

We  seated  ourselves  without  a  word.  The  mem- 
ory of  my  midnight  fears  assailed  me  with  a  pang 
so  poignant  that  for  the  moment  I  was  speechless. 

"  It  was  about  one  o'clock  when  the  old  man 
opened  his  door  suddenly  and  looked  out,"  began 
Bridgeman.  "  He  saw  me  in  here,  and  came  across 
the  hall  and  directly  into  this  room  in  a  quick, 
nervous  way  as  if  he  was  quite  used  up  and  at  the 
end  of  his  tether.  He  had  a  package  of  papers  in 
one  hand.  This  is  it." 

Bridgeman  went  to  a  bureau  and  took  a  small 
parcel  from  a  locked  drawer  and  held  it  out  un- 
certainly. Milbrath  made  no  move  to  take  it,  and 
I  stretched  forth  my  hand. 


336    THE    SNARE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

"  Yes,"  I  said  mechanically.  "  Go  on,  Bridge- 
man." 

He  thrust  the  papers  before  me. 

"  '  Take  these,  man/  he  said.  t  But  as  you  value 
the  welfare  of  your  soul,  let  them  get  into  the  hands 
of  no  one  but  Harrison  Milbrath  or  young  Bliss.' 
Those  were  his  exact  words.  Before  I  could 
speak  he  was  halfway  back  to  his  room  again.  I 
never  saw  such  a  spry  man  for  one  of  his  years! 
I  heard  the  key  turn  in  the  lock  of  his  door,  and 
then,  for  a  little  time  afterward,  there  was  quiet 
in  the  house.  Then  I  heard  a  window  opened 
somewhere.  I  can't  say  why  the  sound  did  n't  seem 
right  to  me,  for  it  is  natural  enough  to  want  air 
in  your  room  at  night,  and  I  was  not  sure  the  sound 
came  from  across  the  hall.  But  I  didn't  like  it 
for  some  reason,  and  I  crept  across  to  the  hall 
window.  What  should  I  see  but  the  old  man,  bare- 
headed, out  in  the  downpour,  going  down  the  rain 
pipe  off  the  porch  just  before  my  eyes.  He  saw 
me,  too,  and  gave  a  low  cry.  I  was  out  of  that 
window  and  down  the  rain  pipe  almost  as  quick 
as  he  was,  and  off  in  the  direction  he  went.  But 
I  could  n't  catch  him.  I  shouted  to  him  to  be  care- 
ful of  the  cliff,  but  I  knew  that  he  knew  about  it 
as  well  as  I  did,  for  he  walked  out  along  there 
after  we  arrived  in  the  afternoon.  I  guess  that 's 
about  all  there  is  to  tell,  sirs.  The  night  watchman 
heard  us  and  came  out,  too,  but  we  could  n't  catch 

him,  as  I  said,  and  then Well,  we  waited 

for  the  tide  to  come  in  —  and  it  floated  in  with  it 
—  the  body,  sirs." 


"THE    WAGES    OF   SIN"  337 

So  those  were  the  figures  that  I  fancied  I  saw 
moving  among  the  dripping  tree  branches  as  I  stood 
by  the  window. 

"Are  there  many  in  the  house  who  know  about 
this,  Bridgeman  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Not  yet,  sir.  There  are  few  guests  in  the  house, 
for  the  season  has  ended,  you  know.  Only  the 
watchman,  the  landlord,  and  the  servants  knew  it 
an  hour  ago  when  I  came  up ;  but  the  coroner  from 
town  will  be  here  soon." 

Bridgeman  hesitated.  Then  he  went  to  the  door 
and  looked  up  and  down  the  hall. 

"  I  'm  not  supposed  to  know,  but  perhaps  it  is 
best  for  you  to  be  prepared  for  anything.  There 
was  an  envelope  in  the  old  man's  room  that  the 
landlord  found  and  took  in  keeping  for  the  cor- 
oner, and  it  was  addressed  to  '  Mr.  Elmer  Bliss ' 
—  and  the  coroner  will  be  here  soon,"  repeated 
Bridgeman  significantly. 

I  saw  the  point.  We  must  be  prepared  for  any- 
thing the  coroner  might  ask  us.  Must  we  speak 
the  whole  truth,  or  would  that  little  bundle  of 
papers  tell  a  tale  that  would  help  us  ? 

"  Thank  you,  Bridgeman,"  I  said.  "  You  will  say 
nothing  about  these  papers  at  the  inquest,  of  course." 

"  Of  course  not,  sir.    Depend  upon  me." 

Milbrath,  who  had  not  uttered  a  word  during 
Bridgeman's  story,  followed  me  out  of  the  room 
and  back  to  our  own  like  a  mute.  This  hour  was 
marking  an  epoch  in  his  life,  and  from  the  expres- 
sion of  his  whole  figure  I  knew  that  he  was  living 
through  it  by  sheer  force  of  will. 

22 


"  We  must  see  the  contents  of  this  parcel  and 
take  our  cue  from  here/'  I  cried,  as  soon  as  we  were 
alone  behind  closed  doors.  And  silently  I  prayed 
that  we  should  find  a  loophole  that  would  let  one 
name  come  through  restored,  and  the  other  pass  on 
untarnished. 

In  the  parcel  there  were,  perhaps,  a  dozen  sheets 
caught  together  with  a  manuscript  pin.  But  a 
loose  sheet  on  top  was  in  fresh  ink,  and  to  it  I 
first  turned  my  attention. 

With  Milbrath  looking  over  my  shoulder  I  read: 

To  Elmer  Bliss,  and  to  my  nephew,  Harrison  Milbrath : 

The  time  is  here  that  I  have  known  from  the  first 
must  come  sooner  or  later,  for  the  lassoer  cannot  play 
the  game  that  I  have  played  and  not  himself  be  caught 
in  the  noose  at  last. 

Nevertheless,  I  am  satisfied  that  it  is  as  it  is.  I  am  an 
old  man,  as  deeds  as  well  as  years  go,  and  I  have  caused, 
no  doubt,  more  than  my  share  of  earth's  worries.  But, 
in  this  evening  that  you  have  granted  me,  the  last  that 
I  shall  know,  I  shall  make  what  restitution  I  can  at 
this  late  day  for  my  greatest  error,  the  culmination  of 
all  my  folly,  for  which  God  alone  knows  the  price  I 
have  paid. 

There  will  be  a  note  addressed  to  you,  Mr.  Bliss, 
waiting  for  you  on  this  desk  where  I  am  writing,  when 
you  come  to  see  me  in  the  morning.  It  is  a  "  confes- 
sion," the  worth  of  which  you  may  appreciate  when  you 
have  read  it.  This  note  and  a  true  statement  of  my  case 
I  shall  hand  to  your  agent  across  the  hall,  to  be  given 
to  you  when  I  am  past  the  power  of  doing  so.  It  is  a 
bit  of  biography  —  a  statement  of  conditions  that  no 


"THE    WAGES    OF   SIN"  339 

one  now  on  earth  ever  knew  to  exist,  and  I  beg  you  to 
destroy  it  as  soon  as  you  have  read  it. 

I  do  not  seek  commiseration  —  I  who  must  lie  in  a 
murderer's  grave  —  but  I  think  that  even  he  who  has 
reason  never  to  forgive  may  think  less  harshly  of  me 
when  he  knows  all. 

As  for  you,  Elmer  Bliss,  I  can  but  compliment  you 
upon  your  success.  You  are  a  worthy  son  of  a  noble 
father.  You  did  your  duty,  even  toward  me  who  de- 
served no  consideration,  and  as  a  last  favor  I  ask  you 
to  deposit  to  your  account,  as  soon  as  possible,  the  check 
for  $20,000  made  to  you  and  lying  in  trust  in  the  Gar- 
field  Bank. 

As  I  have  said  once  before  in  a  letter  which  you  may 
not  have  credited,  and  as  I  have  just  said  again  in  the 
public  note  to  you  lying  here,  I  did  not  kill  James 
Arms.  Much  as  he  deserved  it  I  am  thankful  that  I 
can  go  out  as  I  should  go,  like  a  burned  candle,  without 
that  extra  crime  upon  my  soul. 

And  now  ?  Now  I  am  Eichard  La  Cour.  Eemember 
only  that,  please  —  Richard  La  Cour,  homeless,  friend- 
less, without  means,  the  slayer  of  Peter  Somhers.  The 
"  estimable  Peter  Somhers ! "  For  God's  sake  never  let 
the  truth  be  known.  I  beg  it.  I  who  have  never  begged 
before  —  little  as  I  deserve  consideration  —  I  beg  it !  I 
who  must  pay  the  penalty  for  my  evil  in  a  murderer's 
grave  away  from  Adelaide  and  little  Roland !  A  mur- 
derer's grave  for  all  eternity ! 

There  was  no  signature. 

"  It  is  not  probable  that  we  shall  be  held  or 
searched,"  I  said,  breaking  the  tense  silence  that 
prevailed  as  I  finished  reading.  "  But  we  must  be 
prepared  for  anything  and  we  must  hide  these  papers 
for  the  present  where  they  are  not  likely  to  be 


340    THE    SNAKE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

found.  Here,  lend  a  hand  and  we  '11  rip  up  the 
carpet  and  spread  the  papers  out  under  it  and  be- 
neath the  bed.  There's  no  time  to  read  the  others 
now." 

Noiselessly  as  possible  we  moved  the  bedstead, 
and  with  our  knives  removed  the  tacks  and  laid 
the  papers  under  the  carpet.  Then  as  quietly  we 
replaced  the  tacks  and  moved  the  bedstead  back. 

And  still,  without  an  exchange  of  words,  but  by 
tacit  agreement,  we  left  the  room  together. 


CHAPTER    XXXVII 

MILBEATH'S  VINDICATION 

T  SUPPOSE  that  we  breakfasted  that  morning, 
-*-  and  I  dare  say  we  behaved,  answered  ques- 
tions, and  did  what  we  had  to  do  much  as  other 
people  similarly  conditioned  would  have  done,  but 
I  recollect  only  one  detail  —  the  expression  of  peace 
that  rested  at  last  on  the  features  of  the  old  man 
who  had  fled  from  us  as  we  slept  to  make  his  plea 
for  leniency  in  the  court  of  last  resort. 

Much  more  clearly  in  my  memory  stand  out  the 
events  of  that  other  morning  a  week  later  when 
Milbrath,  having  quietly  taken  it  in  charge,  we  laid 
the  body  of  "  Richard  La  Cour  "  to  rest  as  near  as 
possible  to  the  grave  of  little  Roland  and  that  of 
u  Adelaide,  beloved  wife  of  Peter  Somhers,"  in 
peaceful  Mt.  Auburn. 

I  know  that  at  eleven  o'clock  Milbrath  and  I, 
answering  a  summons,  found  ourselves  in  a  coro- 
ner's court  in  the  city  to  the  north  of  Lyndeth. 

The  coroner  was  a  man  past  middle  life,  with 
a  face  that  showed  that  he  had  not  been  insen- 
sible to  the  miseries  encountered  in  following  his 
profession. 

"  Mr.  Elmer  Bliss  ? "  he  inquired,  looking  at 
me. 


342     THE    SNAKE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

I  bowed. 

"  There  is  a  communication  here,  addressed  by 
the  dead  man,  presumably,  to  you.  May  I  ask  you 
to  open  it  and  read  it  aloud  to  these  gentlemen  ? " 

The  letter  was  as  follows: 

ME.  ELMER  BLISS, 

SIR:  I  am  aware  that  you  are  the  man  who  has 
hounded  me  for  weeks,  and,  necessarily,  I  am  aware 
why  you  have  done  it.  But  I  will  cheat  the  gallows.  I 
am  an  old  man  and  it  matters  little  when  I  go,  but  the 
way  of  going  I  shall  choose. 

But  first : 

1  wish  to  depose  and  say  that  I,  Richard  La  Cour,  a 
man  without  a  home,  relatives,  near  friends,  or,  at  the 
present  time,  means  or  effects  save  what  I  carry  with 
me,  and  a  small  amount  in  the  First  National  Bank 
in  the  city  of  Boston,  am  responsible,  and  alone  re- 
sponsible, for  the  death  of  Peter  Somhers,  of  Overlook, 

in  Winton,  state  of ,  on  October  twelfth,  two  years 

ago. 

On  that  fateful  day  I  joined  Mr.  Somhers  upon  his 
request  at  his  place  in  Winton,  to  conclude  a  business 
arrangement  which  we  had  considered.  I  was  admitted 
by  him  through  a  side  door  and  no  one,  save  Mr. 
Somhers,  knew  of  my  presence  there.  A  quarrel  arose, 
and  in  a  moment  of  anger  I  suppose  that  I  struck  Mr. 
Somhers.  He  fell  to  the  floor,  and  the  bruises  that  he 
sustained  resulted  in  his  speedy  death.  I  left  the  house 
unseen  after  nightfall  and  went  directly  to  Boston. 
Since  then,  until  the  past  few  months,  I  have  spent 
most  of  the  time  in  seclusion  or  abroad. 

I  wish,  also,  to  depose  and  say  that  James  Arms,  late 
farmer  of  Overlook,  having  come  into  possession  of 


MILBKATH'S   VINDICATION        343 

my  secret,  kept  me  reminded  of  my  indebtedness  to  his 
silence,  and  in  that  way  became,  by  degrees,  the  pos- 
sessor of  nearly  all  that  I  could  call  my  own  in  this 
world's  goods.  On  the  day  of  his  death  he  threatened 
me  not  only  with  exposure,  but  with  death  if  I  did  not 
give  him  the  sum  of  money  that  he  demanded.  High 
words  followed  on  both  sides,  and  Arms  stumbled  on  a 
chair,  and  by  accident,  I  suppose,  discharged  into  his 
own  body  a  bullet  that  was  doubtless  intended  for  me. 
This  confession  I  make  of  my  own  free  will  to  ex- 
onerate Harrison  Milbrath,  who  was  twice  tried  for  the 
crime  that  I  committed,  and  to  free  the  man  Horsford 
who  is  charged  with  having  killed  James  Arms. 

(Signed)  EICHAED  LA  Coun." 

A  stir  of  astonishment  vibrated  through  the  room. 
There  were  present  those  who  recalled  the  sensa- 
tional trials  of  Harrison  Milbrath. 

"  May  I  ask  you,  Mr.  Bliss,  to  give  the  jury  a 
statement  of  your  acquaintance  with  the  signer  of 
this  confession  ?  "  It  was  the  grave,  kindly  voice 
of  the  coroner  who  spoke. 

My  ears  were  buzzing  with  excitement,  my  brain 
in  a  whirl  as  to  how  I  could  speak  without  perjury, 
yet  without  betraying  the  secret  that  was  now  mine 
to  keep.  Then  I  found  myself  saying: 

"  I  have  no  acquaintance  with  this  Mr.  La  Cour. 
I  was  engaged  as  a  private  investigator  of  the 
Somhers  mystery  by  my  friend,  Mr.  Milbrath,  and 
came  upon  a  clue  which  I  followed  —  to  this  end." 

"  Can  you  tell  us  some  of  the  details  ? "  asked 
one  of  the  jurors,  a  round-eyed,  expectant-looking 
little  man. 


344     THE    SNAKE    OF    CIRCUMSTANCE 

"  Is  that  compulsory  ? "  I  asked  with  a  smile. 
"  A  professional  man  in  my  capacity  does  not  enjoy 
parting  with  the  secret  of  his  success." 

The  coroner  deliberated. 

"  You  are  at  liberty  to  say  as  much  or  as  little 
as  you  like  on  that  point,"  he  answered  presently. 

"  Then  I  will  say,  merely,  that  the  first  hint 
that  I  got  of  Mr.  La  Cour  was  in  investigating  a 
clue  which  the  police  saw  fit  to  drop  as  worthless 
—  the  statement  of  a  driver  named  Jardine  Jan- 
dyce  of  Beverly  who  drove  an  elderly  man  to  Over- 
look on  the  day  of  the  crime." 

Another  ripple  of  astonishment  ran  through  the 
room,  and  some  one  in  the  rear  caused  a  smile  by 
his  hearty  recommendation  to  "  Shoot  the  police !  " 

I  dreaded  to  have  Milbrath  called;  but  his  ex- 
amination was  brief  and  of  such  a  nature  as  to 
permit  him  to  answer  in  monosyllables.  His  ex- 
treme paleness  and  agitation  seemed  natural  enough 
to  a  group  of  curious  men  who  saw  in  him  only 
the  wronged  principal  in  a  hard-fought  battle  for 
his  life.  But  the  coroner  remarked  to  him,  as  he 
asked  to  leave  the  room  after  his  examination: 

"  You  have  been  under  a  severe  mental  strain, 
my  young  man.  Permit  me,  as  a  physician,  to 
advise  you  to  take  absolute  rest  now." 

I  resolved  on  the  spot  to  engage  Bridgeman  as 
leading  man  if  ever  I  organized  a  theatrical  com- 
pany. He  made  a  fine  show  of  telling  a  great  deal, 
but  not  a  word  did  he  let  fall  of  those  features 
of  his  case  that  might  further  involve  Milbrath 
or  me. 


The  few  other  witnesses  called  had  nothing  to 
say  that  complicated  the  case,  and  after  a  brief 
consultation  with  his  men,  the  coroner  decided  to 
conclude  his  work  at  once,  and  almost  immediately 
the  jury  rendered  a  verdict  of  "  Suicide  by  drown- 
ing when  upon  the  point  of  being  taken  for  the  mur- 
der of  Peter  Somhers,  late  of  Winton  .  .  .  ."  etc. 

Of  course  the  afternoon  papers  were  full  of  the 
story,  the  headlines  of  many  of  them  appearing  in 
pyramids  of  descending  type  that  referred  to  the 
Somhers'  mystery  and  its  ultimate  solution.  I 
found  myself  regarded  somewhat  in  the  light  of  a 
Sherlock  Holmes ;  and,  so  unreliable  is  public  opin- 
ion, Milbrath  came  in  not  only  for  sympathy  but 
for  praise! 

We  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  afternoon  in 
receiving  reporters;  for  as  I  was  one  of  them  in 
spirit,  I  had  not  the  heart  to  deny  them  a  good 
story. 

My  own  story  of  the  case  I  reserved  for  the  New 
York  Sphere,  and  that  was  meager  in  sensation 
compared  with  the  whole  truth  —  had  I  been  able 
to  give  it  to  the  public  then. 

It  was  nearly  six  o'clock  when  Milbrath  and  I 
found  ourselves  alone  at  last  in  our  rooms  at  the 
Chequamegon  House.  We  had  sent  Bridgeman 
home  on  the  midday  train,  his  pockets  well  lined 
with  greenbacks  which  Milbrath  insisted  that  he 
should  accept  from  him. 

Milbrath  looked  so  exhausted  that  I  hesitated  to 
recall  the  papers  that  lay  hidden  beneath  the  carpet. 
But  he  had  not  forgotten  them,  and  presently  he 


346     THE    SNAKE    OF    CIRCUMSTANCE 

pulled  aside  the  bedstead  and  began  to  loosen  the 
carpet. 

"  We  might  as  well  know  the  whole  truth  at 
once,"  he  said.  "  But,  my  God,  Bliss !  At  what 
a  cost  my  good  name  has  been  bought !  " 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII 

THE    STOEY    TOLD 

I~T  is  nearly  a  year  now  since  Philander  Sum- 
-•-  merfield  met  death  at  my  hands,  and,  as  my 
nephew,  Harrison  Milbrath,  is  still  held  for  the 
crime,  I  am  constrained  to  put  upon  paper  a  full 
and  truthful  account  of  the  circumstances  of  the 
case,  and  of  those  that  led  up  to  it.  For  if  Harry 
is  again  condemned  to  die,  and  no  loophole  of  es- 
cape is  made  for  him  otherwise,  I  must  let  the 
truth  be  known  to  the  world.  But  it  shall  be  only 
upon  my  own  death. 

"  The  beginning  of  conditions  that  culminated 
last  year  in  a  tragedy  was  as  far  back  as  '79  when 
I  lost  little  Roland,  my  seven-years-old  son.  No 
one  who  has  not  been  similarly  placed  can  under- 
stand my  grief  at  that  time,  for  his  mother  and 
he  were  the  only  persons  on  earth  whom  I  had  ever 
loved. 

"  As  a  boy  I  was  known  as  imaginative,  clever, 
adaptable,  but  never  as  lovable  or  affectionate.  As 
a  man  I  lived  through  many  years  of  bachelorhood 
without  once  feeling  my  heart  warm  or  grow  tender 
for  any  of  the  comely  maidens  about  me,  many  of 
whom,  no  doubt,  would  have  been  glad,  or  willing, 
at  least,  to  become  Mrs.  Somhers  for  the  sake  of 
the  social  position  which  my  family  held,  and  for 


348     THE    SNARE    OF    CIRCUMSTANCE 

the  wealth  to  which  I  was  heir,  if  not  for  love  of 
the  young  man  who  was  I. 

"  Finally,  in  my  fortieth  year  I  met  Adelaide, 
and  for  the  first  time  knew  the  meaning  of  the 
grand  passion.  We  were  married  twelve  months 
after  our  first  meeting,  and,  in  the  following  year, 
little  Roland  came.  To  him  I  was  cold  at  first, 
for  had  not  his  life  almost  cost  that  of  my  beloved 
Adelaide  ?  But  with  his  first  lisping  '  Dadda  '  my 
heart  was  won,  and  from  that  hour  all  that  I  cared 
for  in  life  was  held  in  two  frail  forms. 

"  With  Roland's  death,  then,  there  came  an 
apathy,  an  indifference  to  everything  for  a  time, 
and  then  —  reaction. 

"  We  were  stopping  for  the  summer  at  the  Ocean 
Hotel  in  Newport,  and  among  the  guests  was  one 
who  laid  claim  to  being  a  spiritualistic  medium. 
I  believed  in  her  at  the  time,  but  now  I  know  that 
she  was  a  humbug  who  played  upon  the  credulity 
of  poor,  earthtied  worms  such  as  I. 

"  Adelaide  encouraged  my  interest  in  the  woman's 
claims  for  she  thought  she  saw  in  it  an  awakening 
for  me,  though  in  looking  back  upon  that  time  I 
think  that  she  was  less  credulous  than  I. 

"  Well,  that  was  the  beginning.  In  the  next 
few  years  I  spent  thousands  of  dollars  upon  me- 
diums who  gave  me  communications  from  my  boy. 
Then,  suddenly,  that  structure  gave  way,  for  I 
detected  a  medium  in  fraud. 

"  I  had  given  in  to  a  partial  reconciliation  to 
our  loss  and  I  saw  how  I  had  been  deluded  from 
the  first.  But  in  those  years  I  had  become  a  rest- 


THE    STOKY    TOLD  349 

less  man  with  a  craving  for  the  new  and  exciting, 
and  nothing  satisfied  me  for  long. 

"  Then  Adelaide  died  —  quite  unexpectedly  after 
a  day's  illness,  and  from  the  hour  of  her  death  for 
six  weeks  I  was  a  maniac  in  the  grip  of  delirium. 

"  As  soon  as  I  was  strong  enough  to  be  about 
again,  I  was  seized  with  a  desire  to  travel,  and  it 
was  upon  my  first  trip  after  that  that  I  met  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Bliss  and  their  young  son.  There  was 
something  about  that  lad  that  appealed  to  me.  He 
was  not  like  my  Roland,  yet  there  was  in  him  a 
suggestion  of  the  same  temperament 

"  Very  different  was  Harrison  Milbrath,  my  only 
sister's  child,  whom  I  took  to  live  with  me  when 
he  became  an  orphan  some  years  later.  Harry's 
incessant  boyish  garrulity,  his  hilarity,  his  irre- 
sponsibility irritated  me  continually.  I  compared 
him  perpetually  with  Roland,  and  asked  myself 
over  and  over  what  justice  there  was  in  a  Higher 
Power  that  would  take  away  from  parents  who 
waited  upon  his  very  breathing,  such  a  boy  as 
Roland  and  leave  a  lad  like  Harry,  whom  there 
were  none  left  to  love.  I  never  felt  affection  for 
the  boy,  as  I  have  shown,  but  by  constantly  com- 
paring him  with  my  Roland,  I  learned  to  hate  him. 
Yes ;  hate  is  the  word. 

"  I  had  grown  irritable  with  age,  and  I  found 
satisfaction  at  times  in  making  Harry  suffer.  To 
such  a  degree  can  we  influence  the  mind  that  after  a 
time  the  very  sight  of  the  boy  roused  a  demon  within 
me  —  a  force  which  could  be  excited  by  no  other 
person  with  whom  I  came  in  contact,  or  ever  had. 


350     THE    SNARE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

"  About  the  time  that  Harry  was  left  to  me  I 
wearied  of  constant  travel,  and  having  bought  Over- 
look several  years  previously  I  settled  down  in 
Winton,  leaving  there  only  when  the  demon  of  un- 
rest again  got  me  in  his  grip  for  a  time. 

"  Thus  the  years  went  on  up  to  18 — ,  when  Harry 
entered  Harvard.  Then  I  found,  and  to  my  as- 
tonishment, that  the  habit  of  breaking  into  parox- 
ysms of  fury  had  become  fixed,  and  with  Harry 
away  I  had  no  safe  vent.  I  dared  not  treat  an- 
other as  I  had  treated  him;  and  more,  I  had  a 
certain  pride  in  being  regarded  as  a  quiet  man,  mild 
and  genial  except  when  irritated  to  the  limit  of 
human  endurance  by  the  wilfulness  of  my  nephew. 
For  I  was  willing  enough  in  those  days  to  have 
Harry  bear  the  brunt  of  my  wickedness  —  Harry 
who  was  amiable  and  lovable,  I  see  now.  If  only 
I  could  have  seen  it  then ! 

"  From  my  earliest  manhood  I  had  been  inter- 
ested in  the  philosophical,  the  psychological.  My 
own  case  became  a  study  to  me,  therefore,  and  I 
calmly  traced  my  mania  —  for  it  was  nothing  less 
—  from  its  incipiency.  I  was  convinced  that  I 
could  control  myself,  and  I  made  an  effort. 

"  Then  I  discovered  a  curious  thing.  My  dual 
self  loved  those  exhibitions  of  the  baser  man!  It 
gloried  in  them!  And  it  had  gained  the  mastery! 

"  My  outbursts,  I  found,  were  in  the  nature  of 
a  seizure.  There  were  premonitory  symptoms,  and 
when  these  appeared  I  endeavored  for  a  time  to 
ward  off  the  attack  by  an  effort  of  will.  But  I 
was  as  if  under  the  control  of  another,  and  there 


THE    STOKY    TOLD  351 

were  hours  that  I  spent  locked  in  my  study,  when 
I  would  lash  myself  into  such  a  fury  that  I  am 
certain  that  had  any  one  appeared  before  me  I 
should  have  killed  him  with  pleasure. 

"  To  guard  against  such  an  exigency  I  forbade 
any  servant  even  to  tap  upon  my  library  door  when 
it  was  closed.  If  a  caller  came,  but  that  was  rare, 
he  must  wait  until  the  door  were  opened,  or  come 
again.  As  I  was  never  irritable  with  the  servants 
or  townspeople,  I  think  that  what  went  on  behind 
that  closed  door  was  never  suspected. 

"  But,  after  a  time,  it  became  annoying  always 
to  have  the  door  of  my  workroom  open  when  I  was 
not  a  maniac,  and  I  conceived  the  notion  of  a  hidden 
room  to  which  I  could  retire  when  I  felt  that  my 
evil  genius  was  in  the  ascendency. 

"  Then  came  the  idea  of  a  passage  to  the  gardens, 
where  I  could  get  air  after  my  attacks.  For  by 
this  time  my  paroxysms  of  insanity  had  grown  into 
periods  which  could  be  brought  to  an  end  only  by  a 
dose  of  chloral  (which,  fortunately,  I  always  had 
reason  enough  left  to  take),  and  a  sleep  from  which 
I  would  awaken  with  restored  mind  but  with  body 
utterly  exhausted.  A  walk  in  the  air  was  the  only 
thing  that  made  me  myself  again,  and  for  this  rea- 
son I  wanted  a  concealed  way  from  the  library  to 
the  gardens. 

"  I  made  the  necessary  plans,  therefore,  and 
hired  workmen  from  Boston,  who  went  back  and 
forth  each  day  between  Winton  and  Lewis  Junc- 
tion, for  I  could  not  risk  their  wagging  tongues  in 
Winton  or  Beverly,  even  though  I  had  engaged  each 


352     THE    SNAKE    OF    CIRCUMSTANCE 

man  at  quadruple  his  usual  wages  only  upon  a 
solemn  oath  that  he  would  keep  the  secret  of  the 
character  of  the  work,  no  matter  what  happened, 
throughout  his  life. 

"  I  directed  the  work  and  kept  away  visitors  dur- 
ing its  progress.  My  nephew  was  in  Europe  that 
summer,  and  I  had  less  difficulty  in  keeping  my  secret 
than  one  would  suppose.  On  one  occasion,  however, 
some  neighboring  townspeople  came  up  to  the 
grounds  of  an  evening,  and,  for  the  first  time  before 
any  one  but  Harry,  I  gave  vent  to  a  demoniacal 
irritation.  I  raved,  but,  fortunately,  with  mildness 
compared  to  my  usual  attacks  of  mania.  Never- 
theless I  think  that  I  roused  suspicion  as  to  my 
sanity.  I  certainly  lost  my  reputation  for  being  a 
man  of  a  mild  temper. 

"  About  that  time  there  appeared  that  remarkable 
bit  of  fiction  entitled  (  Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde.' 
The  tale  appealed  to  me  as  nothing  in  fiction  ever 
before  had  done.  I  read  it  over  and  over  until  I 
knew  it  so  nearly  by  heart  that  to  this  day  I  can 
repeat  much  of  it  word  for  word. 

"  Much  as  my  better  self  loathed  the  character 
of  Hyde,  the  dual  man  of  me  was  fascinated  by  it 
The  one  side  of  me  gloated  over  the  realization  that 
I,  too,  was  of  the  same  kind;  the  other  side  re- 
garded the  fact  with  horror. 

"  How  much  of  my  conduct  was  due  —  is  due 
—  to  the  use  of  chloral,  and  how  much  is  a  psy- 
chological ultimate  —  as  in  the  case  of  Hyde  — 
to  yielding  to  my  baser  nature,  I  am  not  prepared 
to  say,  for  since  I  began  the  use  of  the  drug  I  have 


THE    STOKY    TOLD  353 

never  been  able  to  drop  it  —  save  for  a  short  period 
only,  of  which  I  shall  write  later,  but  about  which 
I  am  now  able  to  recount  but  little. 

"  The  animal  in  me  gained  no  predominance, 
owing,  perhaps,  to  my  advanced  age;  for  I  was 
then  past  sixty. 

"  My  worst  evil  lay  in  my  desire  to  do  bodily 
harm,  and  in  my  sane  moments  I  became  haunted 
by  a  fear  that  some  time  I  would  break  from  the 
secret  room  (where  after  its  completion  I  secluded 
myself  during  these  seizures),  and  attack  some  un- 
offending person  —  as  did  Hyde.  When  I  was 
in  part  my  better  self  I  still  gloated  with  horrible 
pleasure  over  the  thought  that  I  was  deceiving  all 
who  knew  me  as  to  my  true  character. 

"  My  idea  of  having  another  to  masquerade  as 
I  grew  out  of  this  feeling  —  out  of  the  fear,  rather, 
that  I  would  some  time  injure  some  one  —  and  my 
better  nature,  which  ordinarily  disapproved  all  that 
my  dual  self  suggested,  approved  this  plan.  She 
(to  my  imagination  my  better  side  was  feminine), 
argued  that  while  some  one  was  living  at  Overlook 
as  Peter  Somhers,  respectable  and  respected,  the 
real  Peter  Somhers  would  be  in  some  far  distant 
land  conquering  the  evil  in  him.  She  told  me  that 
the  good  Peter  Somhers  would  prevail  under  the 
right  influence,  and  money  could  buy  that  influence. 
And,  strange  to  relate,  I  looked  with  pleasure  upon 
being  once  more  the  self  of  my  early  manhood  days. 

"  With  the  end  in  view  of  leaving  Overlook  for 
an  indefinite  period  in  the  hands  of  a  substitute 
(though  the  notion  that  I  needed  a  substitute  to 

23 


354    THE    SNAKE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

permit  me  to  leave  was  purely  fanciful  and  an  evi- 
dence of  my  love  of  deception),  I  began  to  look 
about  for  a  man  who  resembled  me  in  physical 
appearance. 

"  After  nearly  a  year's  search  in  all  parts  of  the 
country,  I  came,  at  last,  upon  Philander  Summer- 
field,  whose  initials,  even,  were  mine,  and  his  name 
similar.  He  was  a  former  teacher,  and  '  down  on 
his  luck,'  as  the  saying  goes.  He  answered  nearly 
every  point  in  my  requirements.  In  height,  color- 
ing, and  shape  of  features  he  was  like  me.  His 
shoulders  bent  a  trifle,  but  I  reasoned  that  I  could 
appear  to  stoop  a  little  when  in  the  presence  of 
others,  so  that  feature  would  become  recognized  in 
me  before  I  turned  over  my  reins  to  him.  His 
voice  was  lighter  and  his  manner  of  speech  slower 
than  mine,  but  he  was  an  apt  pupil  and  soon  imi- 
tated me  to  perfection.  His  eyelids  were  different, 
a  trifle  heavier,  and  his  eyes  were  dreamier  than 
mine.  But  I  knew  that  by  a  judicious  use  of  color- 
ing matters  I  could  change  my  own  lids  so  as  to 
make  that  feature  also  familiar. 

"  As  for  the  rest,  he  was  absolutely  without  rela- 
tives —  a  rare  condition  and  one  important  for  my 
work,  as  I  wanted  the  man  who  impersonated  me 
to  have  no  communication  whatever  with  his  past 
life. 

"  Being  practically  penniless,  a  would-be  suicide 
with  Potter's  Field  in  the  background,  he  was  easy 
for  me  to  secure.  Indeed,  he  looked  upon  the  mat- 
ter as  a  huge  joke,  worthy  of  a  place  in  fiction.  The 
small  fortune  which  I  agreed  to  pay  him  in  con- 


THE    STOEY    TOLD  355 

sideration  of  his  services  faithfully  rendered,  ap- 
peared to  his  eyes  like  a  princely  remuneration. 

"  I  had  him  call  upon  a  number  of  my  acquaint- 
ances, having  first  primed  him  in  everything  that 
he  needed  to  know  about  me,  and  the  acquaintances 
were  utterly  deluded.  On  several  occasions  he 
impersonated  me  in  business  transactions  —  always 
with  success.  Then  we  sat  for  photographs,  which 
came  out  precisely  alike  except  for  the  difference  in 
the  eyelids,  for  the  camera  refused  to  recognize  the 
make-up  of  mine. 

"  Finally  we  agreed  upon  a  day  when  he  should 
arrive  at  Overlook  to  begin  the  masquerade.  He 
came,  unknown  to  any  of  my  household,  but  I  had 
been  seized  with  a  whimsical  desire  to  delay  my  de- 
parture for  a  time  and  he  was  obliged  to  return  to 
town  again.  He  went  to  the  Beverly  station,  and 
I  remember  that  people  later  spoke  of  having  seen 
me  starting  for  New  York  on  that  day. 

"  About  two  weeks  later  I  wrote  Summerfield  to 
come  again,  and  he  came,  letting  himself  in  through 
the  grotto  door,  for  I  had  initiated  him  into  the 
mysteries  of  my  house. 

"  As  misfortune  would  have  it,  I  was  in  a  rage 
at  the  moment  of  his  arrival. 

"  For  a  number  of  months  past  I  had  been  (un- 
necessarily) annoyed  by  Harry's  attentions  to  the 
granddaughter  of  my  only  close  friend  —  a  young 
girl  whom  I  had  known  from  her  early  girlhood, 
and  with  whom  Harry  had  associated  during  the 
whole  period  of  his  residence  in  Winton.  But  things 
were  different  when  I  knew  that  he  purposed  to 


356     THE    SNARE    OF    CIRCUMSTANCE 

marry  her,  and  it  enraged  me  to  think  that  he  dared 
to  marry  any  one  without  my  consent  —  he  a  de- 
pendent still ! 

"  Yet  my  better  nature  knew  that  it  was  my 
fault  that  Harry  remained  financially  dependent 
upon  me.  At  various  times  since  the  close  of  his 
college  life  he  had  declared  earnestly  that  he  wished 
to  strike  out  for  himself,  and  I  would  taunt  him 
furiously  for  not  doing  so.  But  I  knew  that  there 
was  nothing  in  Winton  or  in  Beverly  for  a  man  of  his 
position  and  training.  Moreover,  in  spite  of  the 
hatred  I  believed  that  I  still  felt  for  the  boy  I  could 
not  bring  myself  (when  he  was  not  before  me)  to 
the  thought  of  parting  with  him.  Hence,  as  regu- 
larly as  he  declared  that  he  would  leave  me,  just 
so  regularly  would  I  write  a  note  which  I  left  at 
his  place  at  the  table  or  upon  the  dresser  in  his 
room,  imploring  him  to  forgive  me  and  remain 
with  me. 

"  But  on  this  day,  the  12th  of  October,  when 
Philander  Summerfield  arrived  in  Winton  for  the 
second  time,  my  customary  quarrel  with  Harry  had 
resulted  in  his  immediate  departure.  He  re- 
turned to  the  house  soon  after  noon  and  I  alone  saw 
him  enter.  When,  therefore,  I  saw  him  leave  the 
house  again,  this  time  carrying  a  suitcase,  I  knew 
that  he  had  been  to  his  room  and  must  have  seen 
the  note  that  I  had  left  there  for  him.  So  I  crept 
up  there  with  a  feeling  that  he  had  left  an  an- 
swer, a  feeling  that  was  confirmed,  though  never 
before  had  I  known  him  to  answer  me  as  he  did  that 
day. 


THE    STORY    TOLD  357 

"  On  the  blank  side  of  the  paper  which  bore  my 
note  to  him  he  had  written : 

"  '  I  have  listened  to  your  pleadings  in  the  past 
only  to  find  that  you  were  playing  with  me.  As  I 
told  you  this  morning,  when  I  have  accomplished 
something  of  which  you  may  be  proud  —  if  that 
time  ever  comes  —  I  will  return  to  Overlook  and  to 
you. 

"  *  Until  then,  accept  my  thanks  for  having  given 
me  the  education  with  which  to  face  the  world.' 

"  No  words  can  describe  the  intensity  of  my  pas- 
sion as  I  read  those  words.  My  first  thought  was 
to  dash  myself  from  the  bluff;  my  second  to  live 
and  make  Harry  suffer.  How,  I  did  not  at  the 
moment  know,  but  suffer  he  should! 

"  Just  as  I  returned  to  my  secret  room  Philander 
Summerfield  arrived. 

"  I  have  mentioned  that  I  always  feared  a  human 
presence  at  the  time  of  one  of  these  seizures,  and 
here  was  Summerfield! 

"As  it  happened,  my  attacks  had  been  milder 
for  a  few  months,  perhaps  because  Harry  acted  as 
a  sort  of  safety  valve.  At  all  events,  my  quarrel 
with  him  that  day  had  spent  my  passion  to  such  an 
extent  that  on  sight  of  Summerfield  my  better  self 
was  able  to  assert  herself  for  a  time,  and  we  trans- 
acted some  final  business  connected  with  the  im- 
personation that  he  was  about  to  begin. 

"  Suddenly,  however,  I  felt  the  demon  in  me 
again  rising  to  the  surface.  I  implored  Summer- 
field  to  leave  the  room,  but  either  he  misunder- 
stood me  or  thought  by  remaining  to  help  me  some- 


358     THE    SNAKE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

how  —  for  he  did  not  know  the  creature  I  became 
at  times. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  happened  next.  All  I  rec- 
ollect is  that  I  reached  for  a  bottle  of  chloral  and 

then Perhaps  I  struck  him  and  he  fell ;  it 

may  be  that  we  wrestled  and  I  threw  him;  or  I 
may  have  tripped  him  as  he  came  to  me.  I  do  not 
know.  But  there  he  lay,  I  saw  presently,  the  blood 
from  a  wound  in  his  temple  spurting  over  the  floor. 
Even  to-day  you  can  see  the  stain  of  that  blood  on 
the  carpet  and  the  floor  of  the  secret  room  if  you 
will  move  the  rug  that  I  threw  over  it 

"  This  unexpected  turn  of  affairs  sobered  me 
instantly.  My  better  self  returned  with  a  shock  of 
horror.  What  had  I  done?  That  which  I  had 
most  feared  would  happen  some  time.  I  had  taken 
a  human  life,  for  Summerfield  was  quite  dead  when 
I  bent  over  him  and  tried  to  find  his  pulse.  And 
more,  I  had  killed  the  very  one  who,  because  of  his 
striking  resemblance  to  me,  I  believed  the  one  to 
help  me  defeat  the  evil  of  my  dual  self. 

"  Then  the  gravity  of  my  deed  from  a  legal  out- 
look bore  in  upon  my  mind.  I,  Peter  Somhers,  to 
die  on  the  gallows  or  stand  trial,  even,  for  having 
taken  a  life  ?  Never !  I  would  dispose  of  the  body 
of  my  victim  and  go  on  with  life  as  before.  Who 
was  there  to  question  where  Philander  Summerfield 
had  gone  ?  Who  so  much  as  to  dream  that  Peter 
Somhers  was  a  murderer  ? 

"  But  the  devil  in  me  was  whispering  again : 
'  Change  your  identity,'  it  said.  '  Be  Philander 
Summerfield,  and  with  your  new  name,  take  upon 


THE    STOKY   TOLD  359 

yourself  a  new  way  of  thinking  and  of  living.  Who 
is  to  prove  that  you  are  not  he  ?  Leave  that  stiffening 
body  there  to  be  called  Peter  Somhers,  and  to  the 
mould  of  the  grave ;  and  listen !  Here  is  your  op- 
portunity to  revenge  yourself  upon  Harry  —  to 
make  him  suffer  as  you  want  to  see  him  suffer ;  for 
who  but  Harrison  Milbrath  would  kill  Peter 
Somhers  ? ' 

"  Needless  to  say,  I  yielded  to  the  demon.  Within 
half  an  hour  I  had  dragged  the  body  of  Philander 
Summerfield  to  the  couch  in  the  library,  and  had 
transferred  my  signet  ring  to  his  cold  finger.  I  did 
not  realize  that  I  had  brought  that  piece  of  oilcloth 
from  the  secret  room  and  put  it  beneath  his  head. 
I  did  not  know  it  until  I  read,  long  afterward,  that 
it  was  found  there.  And  then  I  laughed.  Yes; 
laughed! 

"  By  that  time  the  chloral  that  I  had  taken  began 
to  take  effect  upon  my  system,  and  in  the  seclusion 
of  the  secret  room  I  slept  for  hours. 

"  When  I  awoke  there  were  sounds  of  excitement 
in  the  library ;  for  the  body  had  been  found. 

"  I  had  meant  to  get  away  before  that  event,  and 
I  worked  myself  into  an  ecstasy  of  terror  lest  I  be 
discovered  when  I  tried  to  leave  the  place. 

"  For  nearly  a  fortnight  I  remained  in  the  little 
room,  making  my  plans  for  the  immediate  future, 
endeavoring  (fool  that  I  was)  to  imitate  the  hand- 
writing of  Philander  Summerfield,  and  playing  soli- 
taire night  and  day,  night  and  day.  Of  the  past  I 
dared  not  think,  into  the  future  I  could  take  but 
one  glance.  But  it  is  of  interest  to  record  that  not 


360    THE    SNAKE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

once  in  those  two  weeks  did  a  paroxysm  of  mania 
come  upon  me. 

"  I  subsisted  on  what  I  could  poach  from  the 
larder  in  the  dead  of  night,  for  I  dared  not  venture 
out  upon  the  roads  at  that  time,  when  every  stranger 
was  under  suspicion.  My  beard  grew,  and  in  it 
I  found  an  extraordinary  disguise.  When  I  reached 
Boston  I  breathed  freely  for  the  first  time  in  two 
weeks. 

"  My  first  act  as  a  free  man  (oh,  the  humor  of 
Fate ! )  was  to  enter  a  private  asylum  for  the  insane. 

"  (  To  argue  one's  self  mad  is  to  prove  one's  self 
sane,'  the  head  physician  told  me  when  I  applied 
for  treatment.  But  before  I  had  been  long  with 
him  I  think  he  may  have  strengthened  his  axiom 
by  the  addition  of  the  adverb  '  sometimes.' 

"  For  days  at  a  time,  after  they  took  the  chloral 
from  me,  I  remained  a  raving  maniac,  and  for  a 
long  time  afterward  I  was  too  exhausted  to 
think  much  of  my  past  or  care  whether  I  lived  or 
died. 

"  After  a  time,  however,  those  phases  of  my  dis- 
order passed,  and  I  found  myself  slowly  gaining 
strength,  both  in  mind  and  body. 

"  For  nearly  a  year  as  Albert  Emerson  (a  name 
that  I  had  assumed  when  I  was  looking  for  a  man 
to  impersonate  me)  I  remained  under  the  protecting 
roof  of  the  sanitarium  caring  little,  or  nothing,  for 
what  was  going  on  in  the  world  outside.  Then,  one 
day,  there  came  a  desire  to  know  how  the  death  of 
Peter  Somhers  had  been  received,  and  what  had 
become  of  Harry. 


THE    STORY    TOLD  361 

"  I  gained  my  release,  and  came  back  six  weeks 
ago  into  the  rush  and  distraction  of  life. 

"  Then  I  read  the  papers  —  and  what  stacks  of 
back  numbers  I  bought !  —  and  through  them  I 
learned  of  Harry's  arrest,  and  eagerly  I  followed 
his  trial.  Eagerly?  Yes;  but  sometimes  with  a 
depression  too  acute  for  expression. 

"  Heaven  alone  knows  the  mixture  of  exultation 
and  remorse  with  which  my  mind  greeted  the  ver- 
dict of  his  first  trial !  Fifty  times  since  then  I  have 
been  on  the  point  of  giving  my  confession  into  the 
hands  of  some  trusty  person  and  destroying  myself. 
But  each  time  the  demon  of  egotism  has  restrained 
me. 

"  And  now  I  await  another  verdict  which  will 
mean  a  continuance  of  life  for  the  boy,  or  death  in 
a  felon's  cap  —  unless  —  I  save  him !  After  all, 
considering  what  I  was  to  him  he  was  a  good  boy 
to  me.  Why  should  I  not  save  him?  Good  God! 
Why  do  I  wish  to  live !  For  what  do  I  live  —  now  ? 
I  have,  indeed,  sold  my  birthright  for  '  a  mess  of 
pottage '  which  turns  to  dust  and  ashes  between  my 
lips! 

"  July  14th.  Freed !  Harry  a  free  man !  And 
I  may  still  live !  For  what  ?  Heaven  alone  knows 

—  but  life  is  sweet. 

"July  19th,  18  —  (a  year  later).  For  a  year 
have  I,  Philander  Summerfield,  been  traveling  and 
trying  to  forget.  But  there  is  no  oblivion  for  me 
except  in  the  chloral  —  for  I  have  gone  back  to  it 

—  to  forget! 


362     THE    SNARE    OF    CIRCUMSTANCE 

"  A  harassing  fear  haunts  me  that  in  a  moment 
of  madness  I  shall  betray  my  secret.  Then,  again, 
there  is  Harry.  Poor  Harry!  Sometimes  in  the 
night  I  awaken  with  his  name  upon  my  lips. 

"  I  am  tired  of  life.  I  long  to  exonerate  Harry. 
I  must  do  it,  but  I  cannot  give  myself  up  to  the 
police.  Never  that !  A  moment's  time  I  must  have 
to  prepare  things  for  the  end  —  and  then !  —  I  shall 
engage  some  one  to  hunt  me  down.  There  will, 
perhaps,  be  diversion  for  me  in  that;  and  again, 
I  shall  know  when  it  is  time  to  prepare.  For  a  long 
time  I  have  known  who  will  be  my  Nemesis,  if  he 
will  take  the  case,  though  as  yet  I  have  not  learned 
his  name.  He  is  the  man  who  wrote  the  best  thing 
that  I  have  read  in  connection  with  the  case  —  my 
case !  I  will  give  him  a  fortune  to  get  me  —  if  he 
can.  And  he  will !  Others  have  failed  ?  Yes ;  but 
he  will  not.  Ha !  ha !  What  a  novelty  —  to  detect 
one's  self!  Truly,  it  is  worthy  of  a  madman.  For 
I  am  still  mad.  Not  in  paroxysms  as  before,  but 
mad. 

"  Of  late  I  have  been  possessed  of  a  desire  to  visit 
Overlook.  It  is  easy  going  from  the  Winton  station 
through  the  trail  that  Harry  made.  Poor  Harry! 
Ah !  If  only  I  might  speak  with  you  again,  face  to 
face !  I  would  be  kind  now ! 

"  Last  week  I  was  discovered  by  Arms.  Curse 
that  man!  Of  course  he  knew  me.  Men  of  his 
calibre  have  one  faculty  so  abnormal  as  to  appear 
like  a  gift,  and  his  is  a  memory  for  faces  and  figures, 
for  the  expression  of  face,  carriage,  body  —  all  the 
trifling  individualities  that  make  up  a  personality 


THE    STORY   TOLD  363 

and  are  never  combined  precisely  the  same  in  two 
bodies.  He  alone  of  all  the  world  came,  years  ago, 
to  know  my  shortcomings;  and  because  of  his 
knowledge  I  added  a  codicil  in  his  favor  to  my  will, 
kept  him  on  at  Overlook,  and  countenanced  things 
that  make  my  blood  boil  even  now  to  recall. 

"  But  he  has  me  in  his  power  now,  and  he  knows 
it.  I  recognize  that  his  ready  promise  to  keep  my 
secret  and  give  me  food  and  shelter  at  his  cottage 
when  I  want  it,  is  actuated  by  no  impulse  more 
noble  than  a  fear  that  if  he  betrays  me  I  will  keep 
my  oath  to  cut  him  out  of  all  that  he  acquired 
through  my  supposed  death,  and,  likewise,  a  desire 
to  get  more  from  me  from  time  to  time. 

"  Last  evening  as  I  crept  about  the  grounds  of 
my  lovely  silent  Overlook,  I  caught  a  glimpse  of 
Chaunoey  McClure  standing  by  his  own  gate.  The 
impulse  grew  strong  in  me  to  go  to  him  and  un- 
burden my  soul,  throwing  myself  upon  his  generous 
protection  —  for  he  would  never  betray  me.  But, 
as  he  looked  up  in  my  direction,  and  I  realized  that 
against  the  sunset's  afterglow  my  figure  was  clearly 
discernible,  a  spasm  of  fear  gripped  me  and  I 
dropped  to  the  ground  and  crawled,  snakewise 
(oh,  the  degradation  of  it!),  to  a  place  beyond  his 
line  of  vision.  Then  I  took  to  my  feet  and  ran, 
never  pausing  until  within  the  sheltering  walls  of 
Arms'  cottage.  Such  it  is  to  be  an  outcast  among 
men! 

"  August  16th.  At  last  I  have  gone  a  step  farther. 
I  have  engaged  that  man.  And  who  does  he  prove 
to  be  but  the  son  of  John.  Bliss,  that  child,  grown 


364    THE    SNAKE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

to  man's  estate,  who  reminded  me  of  my  Roland! 
Ah !  The  bitter,  bitter  irony  of  Fate ! 

"  August  24th.  There  is  no  peace  upon  earth 
for  such  as  I  —  no  love  in  all  the  world.  Not  long 
since  in  my  contemptible  self-complacency  I  ac- 
cepted as  my  birthright  the  preferment  of  my  fel- 
low men,  too  often,  nevertheless,  secretly  scorning 
their  tacit  pleas  for  friendship.  Now  I  would  sacri- 
fice all  that  once  seemed  to  me  to  be  the  essence  of 
life :  family,  culture,  education,  wealth,  for  a  single 
tender  word  from  one,  however  humble,  who  truly 
cared  for  me.  Sometimes,  when  the  thought  of 
what  I  have  become,  carries  me  beyond  all  bounds 
of  control,  I  cry  aloud  in  my  agony,  terrifying  those 
who  hear  me,  and,  aye,  striking  fear  to  my  own 
heart,  even. 

"  Last  evening  I  ventured  again  through  the  de- 
serted lower  rooms  at  Overlook,  and  memories  of 
the  past  and  horror  of  the  miserable  present  grew 
too  great  for  me  to  bear.  That  I  shrieked  I  am 
aware,  but  of  what  directly  followed,  as  in  other 
instances,  I  have  no  knowledge.  I  must  have  fled 
to  the  secret  room,  for  presently  I  found  myself 
there,  cold  and  shivering  with  the  fear  of  detection. 
God  have  pity  on  such  as  I ! 

"  September  14th.  Perdition  would  be  rest  com- 
pared with  this  life  for  me.  Oh,  the  torture  of  it ! 
I,  Peter  Somhers,  hounded  from  place  to  place! 
They  are  on  my  track,  that  young  Bliss  and  Harry. 
They  have  discovered  the  secret  room  and  its  con- 
tents, which  I  should  have  destroyed,  and  they 
know  now  who  left  those  insane  warnings.  Insane  ? 


THE    STORY    TOLD  365 

Yes;  for  I  hoped  through  them  to  gain,  after  all, 
a  lease  on  life.  But  they  have  proved  my  undoing  — 
they  and  that  last  quarrel  with  Arms.  I  did  not 
kill  Arms,  though.  My  soul  is  clean  of  that  stain, 
if  stain  it  would  be  to  send  back  to  earth  that  worm 
of  the  soil !  He  had  my  revolver  —  my  only  friend 
which  was  to  stand  by  me  as  Chauncey  McClure 
(ah,  yes!  he  is  another  friend,  thank  God!)  said 
that  one  must  in  time  of  need,  and  he  had  all  my 

money  and  wanted  more.     Then  he  stumbled 

And  I  hid  all  the  day  in  the  woods  and  at  nightfall 
sought  Chauncey  McClure.  Poor  Chauncey  Mc- 
Clure !  I  can  see  him  yet  as  he  looked  then  —  when 
he  knew,  and  I  curse  this  miserable,  selfish  life  of 
mine  which  has  brought  so  much  pain  and  distress 
into  the  world!  The  pity  of  it!  Aye!  Strange 
though  it  be  I  can  feel  pity  now  for  the  sufferings 
of  others.  Thus,  for  Harry's  sake  at  last  I  am  will- 
ing to  pass  on  by  my  own  deed  to  my  punishment 
and  leave  him  to  the  vindication  that  he  deserves. 
Poor  Harry!  Yet,  if  the  world  knows  not  of  the 
disgrace  to  the  name  of  Somhers  what  need  I 
care  ?  Ah !  I  fear  what  may  come !  The  teachings 
of  my  childhood  return  to  mock  me.  And  I  fear 

Fear?     What?     Nothing  in  the  hereafter 

can  be  worse  than  this  life  now  —  and  there  may 
be  — rest  —  and  —  peace " 


The  clocks  in  the  city  to  the  north  of  us  were 
striking  six  as  I  finished  reading.  I  had  been 
glancing  from  time  to  time  at  Milbrath,  whose 


366     THE    SNAKE    OF   CIRCUMSTANCE 

face  had  changed  at  last  from  its  dull  apathy  to  a 
picture  of  expression,  now  tender,  now  hardening; 
and  now  the  tears  welled  between  his  eyelids,  and 
he  laid  his  head  upon  his  folded  arms  upon  the 
table  and  sobbed  aloud. 

"  Poor  uncle !  "  he  muttered.  "  Poor  uncle ! 
After  all,  he  was  his  own  worst  enemy,  and  I  have 
not  suffered  so  much  as  he !  " 

I  had  not  the  sympathy  of  kinship  which  in- 
fluenced Milbrath,  and  at  that  moment  I  could  feel 
no  tenderness  for  the  old  villain  who  had  made  a 
trusting  young  man  his  scapegoat. 

"  Come,"  I  said,  with  my  hands  upon  Milbrath's 
shoulder.  "  Let  us  freshen  up  a  bit  and  get  away 
from  here  to-night  —  into  a  different  atmosphere." 

Milbrath  made  no  answer.  He  sat  up  with  his 
chin  in  his  hands,  his  eyes  staring  straight  before 
him. 

"You  can't  see  things  in  their  true  lights  now, 
lad,"  I  continued.  "  Better  not  try.  By  and  by  the 
perspective  will  be  clearer  and  you  will  appreciate 
not  only  that  we  have  much  to  be  thankful  for  that 
our  secret  remains  ours  only,  but  that  no  more  satis- 
factory ending  was  ever  realized  from  so  sorry  a 
beginning.  Moreover,  Milbrath.  Think  of  what 
complete  exoneration  means  to  you.  The  hour  that 
you  have  dreamed  of  and  prayed  for  has  come,  and 
you  are  free  to  acknowledge  as  yours  the  little  girl 
who,  to  respect  your  wish,  has  been  denied  her 
right  to  comfort  you  these  two  years,  and  who  is 
waiting  for  you  there  in  Winton.  Come." 

Milbrath  rose  resolutely  and  grasped  my  hand 


THE    STORY    TOLD  367 

in  a  hearty  grip.  I  knew,  then,  that  though  only 
time,  that  merciful  mellower,  could  soften  the  mem- 
ory of  recent  events  and  make  them  endurable  to 
him,  yet  his  brave,  sweet  character  had  risen  to 
the  demands  of  the  present,  and  that  a  beginning 
had  been  made. 


THE  END 


Mr.  Oppenheim  s  Latest  Novel 


THE  ILLUSTRIOUS 
PRINCE 


By  E.  PHILLIPS  OPPENHEIM 

Illustrated  by  Will  Foster.        Cloth.        $1.50 


Mr.  Oppenheim's  new  story  is  a  narrative  of  mystery 
and  international  intrigue  that  carries  the  reader  breath- 
less from  page  to  page.  It  is  the  tale  of  the  secret  and 
world-startling  methods  employed  by  the  Emperor  of 
Japan  through  Prince  Maiyo,  his  close  kinsman,  to  ascer- 
tain the  real  reasons  for  the  around-the- world  cruise  of  the 
American  fleet.  The  American  Ambassador  in  London 
and  the  Duke  of  Denvenham,  an  influential  Englishman, 
work  hand  in  hand  to  circumvent  the  Oriental  plot,  which 
proceeds  mysteriously  to  the  last  page.  From  the  time 
when  Mr.  Hamilton  Fynes  steps  from  the  Lusitania  into  a 
special  tug,  in  his  mad  rush  towards  London,  to  the  very 
end,  the  reader  is  carried  from  deep  mystery  to  tense 
situations,  until  finally  the  explanation  is  reached  in  a 
most  unexpected  and  unusual  climax. 

No  man  of  this  generation  has  so  much  facility  of  ex- 
pression, so  many  technical  resources,  or  so  fine  a  power 
of  narration  as  Mr.  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim.  —  Philadelphia 
Inquirer. 

Mr.  Oppenheim  is  a  past  master  of  the  art  of  construct- 
ing ingenious  plots  and  weaving  them  around  attractive 
characters.  —  London  Morning  Post. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS 
34  BEACON  STREET,  BOSTON 


By  the  Author  of  "  The  Kingdom  of  Earth  " 


PASSERS-BY 


%  ANTHONY  PARTRIDGE 

With  illustrations  by  Will  Foster.     Cloth.    $1.50 


This  new  novel  by  Anthony  Partridge,  whose  absorbing 
romance,  "The  Kingdom  of  Earth,"  met  with  instant  favor, 
has  London  for  its  scene.  But  when  you  have  read  it 
you  will  admit  that  real  London,  as  well  as  imaginary 
Bergeland,  is  a  source  of  fascinating  romance. 

The  heroine  of  "  Passers-By  "  is  a  street  singer,  Christine, 
who  comes  to  London  accompanied  by  Ambrose  Drake, 
a  hunchback,  with  a  piano  and  a  monkey.  The  fortunes 
of  these  two  are  strangely  linked  with  those  of  an  Eng- 
lish statesman,  the  Marquis  of  Ellingham,  who  in  his 
youth  has  led  a  wild  and  criminal  career  in  Paris  as  the 
leader  of  a  band  of  thieves  and  gamblers,  the  Black  Foxes. 
Here  is  the  material  for  a  thrilling  tale  in  which  mystery 
breeds  adventure  and  culminates  in  love. 

The  first  chapter  plunges  the  reader  into  an  interest- 
compelling  maze  of  events,  and  the  attention  is  held  to 
the  end  by  a  series  of  dramatic  situations  and  surprises. 

Mr.  Partridge  is  now  reckoned  among  the  favorite  novel- 
ists of  the  day.  His  first  book  was  "  The  Distributors," 
the  story  of  a  great  London  mystery.  Then  came  "The 
Kingdom  of  Earth,"  one  of  the  popular  novels  of  1909. 
"Passers-By"  is  his  third  book. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS 
34  BEACON  STREET,  BOSTON 


A  Swiftly  Moving  Mystery  Story 


THE  RED  SYMBOL 


By  JOHN   IRONSIDE 
Illustrations  by  F.  C.  Yohn.     12mo.     Cloth.     $1.50 


Here  is  a  tale  of  love,  mystery,  and  adventure,  that 
opens  with  a  rush  and  holds  the  interest  unflagging  to 
the  end.  If  you  like  a  stirring  love  story,  prepare  to  be 
fascinated  by  the  charming  but  baffling  heroine ;  if  you 
enjoy  an  absorbing  mystery,  be  ready  to  cudgel  your 
brains  over  a  perplexing  one ;  if  you  care  for  adventures 
that  thrill,  follow  Maurice  Wynn  through  the  mad  whirl 
of  events  that  befall  him  when  he  goes  to  Russia  and 
becomes  involved  with  a  secret  society  of  Nihilists. 
Better  yet,  if  you  're  fond  of  a  rattling  good  yarn,  one 
which  combines  all  three  elements,  love,  mystery,  and 
action,  in  just  the  right  proportions,  take  up  "  The  Red 
Symbol,"  and  when  you  have  turned  the  last  page,  with 
nerves  all  tingling,  you  will  regret  that  you  're  not  just 
starting. 

This  swiftly  moving  narrative  promises  to  be  one  of  the 
most  popular  novels  of  1910. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS 
34  BEACON  STREET,  BOSTON 


"  A  howling  success  " 


AN  AMERICAN  BABY 
ABROAD 


By  MRS.  CHARLES   N.   CREWDSON 

Illustrations  by  R.  F.  Outcault  and  Modest  Stein 
12mo.     Cloth.     $1.50 


When  the  American  baby's  mother  hurries  off  from 
London  to  Egypt,  where  her  husband  is  ill  with  fever, 
the  baby,  in  company  with  its  colored  nurse  and  a  friend 
of  its  mother's,  follows  more  leisurely.  The  trio  stop 
at  Oberammergau  to  see  the  Passion  Play,  in  Rome  to 
witness  a  special  mass  conducted  by  Pope  Leo,  —  in  a 
word,  do  more  or  less  sightseeing,  until  they  finally 
reach  Cairo,  where  much  more  exciting  events  befall 
them.  The  description  of  the  places  they  visit  is  en- 
hanced by  a  pleasant  vein  of  humor,  and  an  attractive 
love  episode  sustains  the  interest.  It  is  an  extremely 
entertaining  story,  light  and  vivacious,  with  brisk  dia- 
logue and  diverting  situations — just  the  book  for  summer 
reading. 

A  series  of  characteristic  pictures,  by  the  well-known 
artist,  Mr.  R.  F.  Outcault,  and  Modest  Stein  gives  addi- 
tional charm  to  the  volume. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS 
34  BEACON  STREET,  BOSTON 


A     000  051  687     2 


